


Something About Summer

by koldtblod



Series: The Moonstar Lodge Reunion [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: A good old fanfic trope fiction tbh, AU, Acoustic cover of Cool For The Summer plays, Alternate Universe, And by that I mean a little bit of Mary Jane so everyone relax, Bisexual Disaster Clementine (Walking Dead), Coming of Age, Does anyone remember what it was like to be 16? I fuckin' don't., F/F, Hashtag for once not tragic, I didn't mean to write this but then it was 2500 words and I couldn't stop, I haven't tagged anyone who's little more than a mention, Okay I know Ericson was supposed to be in West Virginia but that doesn't make sense with my fantasy, Pop Culture, Underage Drinking, mild drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:49:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 58,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22548835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koldtblod/pseuds/koldtblod
Summary: Lee had decided – per his first rule – that Clementine would have no choice but to come to the party with him.  Never go alone, and all that, as he said.  He had a few strange rules but Clementine tried not to question them, and so she accepted the proposition with barely more than an eye roll.Aka, the AU I thought I'd never write.  Kenny's attending a skiing holiday reunion just outside of town and he wants Lee to go along with him.  Clementine's learnt to drive, and is desperate for this year's summer to be a little more eventful than last.
Relationships: Clementine/Violet (Walking Dead: Done Running)
Series: The Moonstar Lodge Reunion [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2056770
Comments: 82
Kudos: 202





	1. Daydream Believer

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so... I'm not big on AUs, I'll be honest. But then I was walking home for work and something stupid popped into my mind, and I got a little too invested in making a Spotify playlist about everyone's favourite canon bisexual. And here we are.  
> Anyway, the title is deffo a work in progress but whatever. I'm in too deep. I just wanted to post something.  
>   
> Lauren's been a fab beta as usual.

"Fuck it, come on!"

Clementine twists the keys in the ignition, blotting away the bead of sweat that's streaming down her temple with the back of her hand at the same time. She must have tried a thousand times to get the damned car to start, but it hasn't moved an inch since she rolled it into the school parking lot at 8:45 am and is now refusing to cooperate. The engine churns once again but doesn't roar into life.

She hasn't had the most success with this car, in all fairness. Clementine had passed her driving test not very long ago, and although Lee had warned her that she was better getting a newer model, she'd had her heart set on the red Ford Mustang ever since she'd seen it advised for sale at the McCarol Ranch. She had caught the bus home on the day of her 16th birthday to find it waiting in the driveway, topped with a shiny bow that was at complete odds with the paintwork, and been allowed to take the keys on the premise that its upkeep was her responsibility.

Clementine thinks about getting out of the car, to pop the hood and ensure that the blasted thing hasn't overheated again. 

She's supposed to be picking her little brother up from elementary before she goes home, and dropping him at the babysitter's, but now Clementine is fearing that she might not make it at all. She'd already finished school a little later than planned,thanks to analtercation with rogue paper aeroplanes in the last period.

She takes her baseball hat off her head, slinging it onto the dashboard and rummages through her bag for her phone. She calls the only person that she'd trust in an emergency.

"Hey, sweetpea," comes Lee's voice, from the other end of the phone.

"Hey," she says, "um, Rosie won't start. I've sat here for twenty minutes and – AJ'll be finishing school soon – I don't wanna be late."

"Did you leave the lights on again?"

"No, I don't think it's the battery..."

Clem tries the key again as she talks, and Lee hums at the sound.

"Alright, sit tight," he says. "I'll send somebody out, okay?"

"Okay." 

"I'll see you real soon."

Clementine sighs and climbs over into the passenger seat, where she can sit with her feet resting on the dashboard, and cranks the handle to open the window. It's stifling hot in the front seat, even though it's still only mid Spring and she's had the driver's door open ever since she came back.

She keeps her phone out, to text Mariana. She ignores the message from Gabe asking if she still wants to go to the movies with him next weekend. She checks Facebook; likes a couple of cat videos; gets sucked into a Buzzfeed quiz that tells her what sort of survivor she'd be in a zombie apocalypse (Strong Through Solidarity); then, approximately half an hour later, there's a roadside assistance van pulling into the school parking lot and making a beeline for her.

It only takes a further ten minutes for the man to get the car started, and then he sends Clementine on her way with advice to fix the rust under the hood, and a hefty bill that she's reluctant to show to Lee.

The first notes of _Daydream Believer c_ hime out of the radio as she pulls away from the parking lot. The wind catches in her fringe and blows it back from her face as the Mustang picks up a bit of speed, as Clementine turns onto the highway, and it dries the sweat that's gathered on her forehead. She desperately hopes that this summer will be more eventful than the last – now that she can drive, now that she's free to go wherever she wants.

At the very least, she can run her own errands.

Tonight she and Lee are attending a reunion of sorts, at a small, slightly old fashioned function room right on the outskirts of town, just off of the freeway. It isn't their own – Clementine has never been skiing in her life – but rather, Uncle Kenny's, who had been on a singular skiing trip six years ago or so, fallen in love, dedicated his entire life savings to trips to Wellington, and this year is hosting a get-together for everyone who had been in his original ski group. 

Kenny wasn’t really her uncle, any more than Katjaa was her aunt or their son Duck was her cousin. He was a tall, dark-haired fisherman from Florida with a bristly moustache who had been part of their disjointed family for as long as Clementine could remember. Whatever happened, he and Lee had each other's backs and everyone knew it.

As for the reunion, Clementine had heard them talking about it a few of weeks ago, over a couple of beers whilst they watched the game on a Saturday afternoon.

"You've gotta come," Kenny was saying. "Get out of the house for a while, meet some new people..."

"I dunno, man." Lee had sounded bemused. "What are we gonna have in common?"

"Fuck, anything!"

"Hmmm..."

"Why are you so scared, huh? Carley'll be there – remember Carley? – the reporter who ran the story on the drug store that time? You always liked her, right?"

"Aw man, that was years ago."

"It could still happen."

Clementine had left them to hash it out for the afternoon, and by the time she'd returned from her hockey practice, Lee had decided that she, too, had to come with him.

That's why they've arranged a babysitter.

That's why Clementine is heading home instead of over to Mariana's as usual for a Friday night.

But, despite all the planning in the world, it's still no real surprise that she's ten minutes late by the time she pulls up to AJ's school. Not with that car. Not with her luck.

She has to park haphazardly over the sidewalk by the gate and go into the office to collect him, under the disapproving stare of the headteacher, but AJ fortunately seems to be in a perky mood. He’s drawn a picture of the three of them today – him, Lee and Clementine – holding hands in front of a two-storey house (Clementine assumes it must be their house, although it's orange in colour and has four chimneys) that he insists must be put up on the refrigerator.

“I’m getting real good,” he tells Clementine, as she’s buckling him into the passenger seat.

“Yeah.” She shuts the door and then climbs back behind the wheel. “Are you gonna do any more tonight?”

“I dunno,” he says. “I wanna watch Disco Broccoli.”

“I think B would like a picture,” Clementine suggests. “Why don’t you draw her with her dog?”

“Maybe,” says AJ. “But Disco Broccoli first.”

“Yeah, of course."

Luckily, the engine fires up on the first attempt and Clementine makes a very smooth albeit illegal U-Turn in the road. She drops AJ off with Barbara and makes him promise to behave himself. Barbara insists that he's never a problem. Then, it's home time, and again the car starts without a hitch. Clementine avoids the worst of the after school traffic, and by quarter past four, she’s unlocking the front door. She makes a drink, cleans the kitchen, and is halfway through vacuuming the hallway when Lee returns with a big paper grocery bag in his arms.

"Hey, honey,” he says. “Did you get the car working?”

“I think I need a job,” Clementine groans. “Wait – I’ve got the receipt – it isn’t pretty.”

“Don’t worry,” he says, because although he'd told Clementine that she’d have to pay for the car, Lee’s always been a big softie at heart who can’t bear to put her out. “Here, take this bag through," he tells her instead, as he toes his shoes off. "I’ve got us a desert, for tomorrow afternoon!”

“Chocolate pudding?” Clementine asks.

“Pecan pie.”

He's impressed by AJ’s drawing and puts it up almost immediately on the side of the fridge, secured by a magnet from the University of Georgia's giftshop. He and Clementine finish the housework, and then it’s ten to six, and Lee calls Kenny before jumping into the shower whilst Clementine changes her clothes and paints her nails.

Maybe she’ll meet someone, she thinks, as she checks her phone and promptly clears the notification from Gabe. Maybe they’ll make her feel a little more excited about texting back. It'd be nice to spend the summer laughing with someone – _kissing_ someone – who's more than a friend. She could drive them down to the national park and they could camp out overnight and look at the stars.

Perhaps Lee thinks so too. He comes out of the bathroom in a shirt – a posh shirt – and dress pants, as if he's expecting to impress someone, and Clementine can't help but smirk.

" _What?_ " he asks.

"Cufflinks?" Clementine snorts. "It's a function room."

"Anyone could be there!"

"Yeah, sure, a bunch of nutjobs who engage in a sport where they're likely to break their legs–"

" _You_ play hockey."

"It's not the same!"

A horn pips loudly from outside, three times in quick succession. 

"That'll be Kenny," says Lee.

"Do I need a bag?" 

"What? I don't know – use your pockets!"

The setting sun is low enough now to pour in through the windows, like melting gold against the mirror as Clementine checks her reflection in the hallway once more before heading downstairs. She could have styled her hair a little more nicely, but it'll have to do. When they reach the porch they can see that Kenny's Toyota is pulled halfway up their driveway and Kenny is looking wildly out of place in the front seat dressed in a suit.

"Still wearing that old hat, huh, Clem?" Kenny teases, as she pulls herself into the back of the truck next to Duck, and Lee takes the passenger seat.

"Still sporting that moustache," she says.

"Yeah, yeah, alright," Kenny laughs. "Buckle up, and let's get going!"

"Where's Sarita?" Lee asks. He lowers the sun visor.

"Oh, she's gone straight there! You know how she is. Just made her way up after work. And Duck wanted to come, so I told Katjaa I'd pick him up. It’d just be good to see how everyone’s turned out these days, you know?”

They pull out of the cul-de-sac and take the first road out of town.

"Of course, I kept in touch with a few," Kenny continues, "but some of them were real smart-asses when I was last there –"

"Daaaad."

"Smart alecs – sorry, Duck – you know."

"Right," says Lee.

"Yeah, but that’s why Sarita’s gone up ahead, see, just to get a feel."

"Is there gonna be food?" Duck asks. He's busy playing some sort of video game on his Nintendo 3DS but glances up as he directs the question.

"There's a buffet!" Kenny says. "Walter helped prepare it. He organised the initial group, you know, with his, uh..."

"Partner," Lee provides.

"Yeah."

Clementine stares out of the window. They're picking up speed. The street lamps on either side of them are beginning to flicker into life and are casting long, stretched shadows into the road, but the evening is still warm. There's a swift breeze catching Clementine's cheek, from where Kenny has the front window cranked open an inch. He and Lee are still jabbering – something now about Macon – and the people they used to know.

They drive for almost twenty-five minutes. Fifteen accounts simply for getting away from suburbia, but slowly the main roads and highways narrow and then they're trucking through the rural outskirts of town, barely the wink of distant buildings on the horizon – a gas station here; a bundle of farm buildings there; a lone trailer; very little except mountains ahead.

Suddenly, as the road curves, on their left a large dirt parking lot with a low brick wall running through the middle rises out of the landscape. There's a small, rectangular building behind it and a couple of cars are parked up already. Peeling posters dating back several years line the boards on the outside.

It doesn't look like much, but Kenny seems optimistic. 

"This is the place," he says happily.

Clementine can smell the open countryside from the moment she steps out of the truck – warm air and gravel and the hint of manure. The sound of Motown from the venue is carrying on the breeze. Sarita comes out as they approach, greeting them by the door, kissing Kenny and ruffling Duck's hair.

She says it's busy, and Kenny hurries them all through.

There are so many names, so many introductions, that Clementine loses count after Walter, Michael, Nick and Pete, Luke, Julia and Carlos, and Sarah of course who – aside from Duck – is the only other person here who's about the same age. She shakes a few hands, trying to remember the names and match the faces, but mostly she just ends up smiling awkwardly as she follows Lee around the hall and repeats her own name over and over.

On the contrary, everyone seems to know Duck. Even the people who haven't spoken to Kenny in years are pleased to see him. Duck's still not grown out of his freckles and holds barely any weight, but he's so tall now that he towers over most of the women, and half of the grown men, when he goes to hug them.

Carley, the reporter, is one of the last people to arrive. She's still got a suitcase with her and has flown straight over from Illinois, now known as home, and spent almost $60 in a cab just to find her way here. She is adamant that she'd known Clementine when she was a little girl, and Lee advises that it's true, but Clementine can't quite remember.

At any rate, she looks happy to see Lee again. They kiss on both cheeks, and Carley blushes, and Lee fiddles with his cufflinks and grins at her sheepishly.

"Hey," he says to Clementine after they've made the rounds, "what'd'you think?"

"About Carley?" she asks.

"No!" Lee hisses. "About me – how do I look?"

"I mean... Yeah. Nice. She's nice."

"Okay," Lee breathes. He brings $10 out of his wallet. "Why don't you take this," he says. "See if Sarah wants to... share some chips or... somethin'."

"Right," says Clem, thinking about the buffet. She takes the money. "I get the hint, you know," she says. "You wanna talk to Carley, I'm cramping your style."

"I didn't say that."

"No." She grins. "But I get it."

She leaves Lee to rekindle old flames and buys two glasses of lemonade from the bar and packet of Classic Lays. She gets waylaid on her journey back across the room, when Sarita calls her to tell one of the men about Mariana's uncle, and then she can't escape until she's repeated the same story three times to four different people.

"Lotta baseball fans!" says Kenny, as he passes.

The lemonade is half warm when Clementine finally reaches Sarah, almost an hour later, who's been sitting in the corner with a book open in her lap. There's a Polaroid camera on the table beside her and she looks up as Clementine approaches.

They talk about school for a while, and about their families. Sarah is very friendly – maybe overly so – but for Clementine, who has spent almost half of her life with Duck, it's pretty easy to figure out the conversation. She lets Sarah take her photograph, in front of the silver foiled curtain that's hung across the 'Staff Only' door, and offers to take one of her. When Carlos comes to visit, Sarah can hardly wait to show it to him, and soon everyone starts to gather around to ask for photos of themselves too.

Clementine decides to go for a wander. She speaks to Walter, mainly about his partner Michael, and then visits the bathroom for an excuse to text Mariana and gets caught for another twenty minutes trying to fix the zipper on someone's dress. In the end, she settles on one of the stools beside the bar and watches Lee and Carley, dancing to _My Girl_ across the room and Duck, by the buffet, loading sausage rolls onto his paper plate.

“Hey.”

Clementine looks around. One of the women, who she was sure she’d been introduced to earlier, is leaning into the bar beside her. She’s got an empty glass in her hand and smiles as she slides onto the adjacent bar stool. She's got a short hair cut, a slim, pointed face, and a necklace that dips deep into the cleavage of her dress.

“Oh, hi...”

“Not very teen-friendly, is it?” the woman says. “You're Clementine, right? My sister woulda been about your age – what, about 21? – and she wouldn't've liked it much either. It's a little boring. Lots of middle-aged folks talkin' about their youth, as if you could relate, and –"

“Sorry,” Clem says quickly, “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Oh, it’s Jane.”

“Hi, Jane.”

Clementine doesn’t think to correct her about her age, and Jane carries on unperturbed. 

“So, d'you wanna drink? You look like you could use one."

“Uh, sure, how about –"

But Jane is already waving to the barman and orders two double rum and cokes, promptly placing the first in front of Clementine.

"There,” she says. "Now tell me, how'd you end up here? How many people d'you know?”

“Not many...” Clementine sniffs carefully at the drink and then takes a sip so as not to be rude. She decides it isn't terrible; that one drink wouldn't hurt. “Lee's my dad," she says, "–step-dad, kinda – and I’ve known Kenny for years –"

“Kenny!” Jane repeats. “Hmph, that figures. Has he changed much over time?”

“He’s... I don’t know.”

“Never saw eye to eye, Kenny and I,” she says. “He never thought mucha Luke either.”

“That’s your boyfriend?”

“Uhuh. You see him over there, with the chestnut hair? Talkin' to Carlos?”

“He seems nice.”

"Yeah, we – God –" Jane laughs. "We got together on one of those skiing trips, can you believe that? Is there enough ice in there, by the way? Good. Yeah, it's crazy to think back."

They start to talk about the old times, like the boring middle-aged folk that Jane had tried to set herself apart from, but Clementine doesn't mind and soon they've settled into an easy rapport. She decides that she quite likes Jane. She's a little morbid, sure, but now at least Clementine has someone to talk to again.

And then Kenny appears by the bar.

“Evening, ladies," he says and glances irritably at Jane. “I hope you ain't disturbing our Clementine."

“We’re just talkin', Kenny,” Jane says dismissively, rolling her eyes, “and I’m buyin' her a drink.” To the bartender, she shouts out again, “Two more rums please!”

“Rum?” Kenny repeats.

Clementine feels her stomach drop. She can almost feel the anger rising in Kenny as he reaches to pluck the empty glass from in front of her and inhales deeply.

“Jesus, woman," he snarls, "this girl's 16 years old!"

“She didn’t know –" Clementine says quickly.

“Oh, rubbish!" Jane waves him away. "We’re havin' a great time, quieten down.”

“I won’t be quiet!” Kenny seethes, and then shouts over his shoulder, “Lee! Lee, come over here!”

"Oh, you're really like you always were," says Jane, spinning on her barstool to face him. She's handing a $20 bill over her shoulder to the bartender at the same time, and moving Clementine's new drink into the space in front of her.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Jane scoffs, shaking her head. "This," she says.

"What's going on?"

Now Lee appears behind them, and Clementine passes the newest drink to him without a word.

"Drinkin'!" Kenny cries.

"I'm alright, Uncle Kenny –"

"No, no, you ain't done nothin' wrong, Clem. This is between me and her."

"Oh, fuck me, here we go."

Lee's holding tight to the beverage, frowning between the two parties. Condensation is dripping onto the floor from his hand.

"She can have a small drink if she wants to, Kenny," he suggests. "Clem’s not a child –"

“She’s sixteen!”

“I _am_ still here...”

"He's the _last_ one who can talk about drinkin'!" Jane says.

"Kenny –" Now Sarita's pushing her hand onto Kenny's chest as he squares up to Jane.

Everyone's likely watching them. Lee is telling Kenny to chill out, man, and Jane is laughing derisively, and Kenny's getting more and more het up by the minute. Clementine takes only a moment to look between them all before she decides that she can't be bothered getting involved. She rolls her eyes and slips off the barstool, ducking between the adults who regardless don't notice, and she's halfway across the room when she hears a scuffle break out somewhere behind her. A glass shatters. Sarita is shouting Kenny's name.

She slips through the door before anyone can follow, passing a man in the entrance who's smoking a cigarette, and then she's outside in the fresh air and looking up at the wide expanse of stars in the dark, clear nighttime sky.

The man – Pete, she thinks is his name – calls after her.

"Hey, uh..."

"I'm not leaving," Clementine tells him, without glancing back. "Just taking a breather!"

She sends a text to Lee whilst it's in her mind, just to let him know that she's safe.

She walks the expanse of the parking lot, weaving between the cars, and back towards the road where she hops the barrier and scuffles over the bank on the other side. The sounds of the function die down – the music, the voices, the clatter. She thinks she maybe should have known better than to expect for too much tonight. Clementine might love Uncle Kenny, but he had a habit of causing this type of friction. Still, she thinks, Lee will calm everything down.

It's quiet out here, but Clem still wishes that she'd brought her car. There aren't any road lights, and no traffic around to brighten the way, so she has to stumble her way over the gravel at the side of the road. Then, she loses her footing; her heart jumps into her throat as she feels herself go sliding through the weeds and down the side of the embankment, stumbling over at the bottom and landing on her back. As she stares at the sky above and tries to process what has happened, she hears a boy's voice from behind her.

"Shit, are you alright?"

The next thing Clementine knows is she's being hauled to her feet and she's face to face with him. The boy must be about her age, if only a little older, and is wearing a long brown coat with a woollen lining and his hair is styled in jaw-length dreadlocks.

"Sorry," he says, "I was just..."

"I'm good," Clementine tells him and brushes herself down.

"Fuck." The boy laughs awkwardly. "Where did you even come from?"

"The function room," Clementine says, "across the road."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Well, I didn't _mean_ to slide down here."

"No, I didn't think..."

A pause. The boy's still holding a pack of beers and car keys in one hand, and when Clementine really looks she can see that there's a truck parked up in the shadows behind him.

"I'm Louis," he says eventually. "And I'm not... _weird,_ before you ask... I'm here with some friends." He jabs his thumb over his shoulder, to where there's a thin line of grey smoke rising from a dip in the valley.

"Clementine," she says.

"You know, there's a song with your name in it."

Clementine wants to scoff, because that’s what everyone says, but there’s something light in Louis' tone that stops her. He doesn’t mean any harm. He’s got a friendly face, she thinks, and a hopeful smile.

“Yeah,” she says, “I know.”

“So, uh, you from around here?”

“I live in town, if that what you mean,” Clementine tells him, and then quickly adds, “My folks know I’m over here.”

Just in case.

"Have you got a little time?" Louis shifts the beers in a meek suggestion.

"I suppose..." 

It's not as if she's racing back to catch the end of the brawl, after all, and Louis grins.

"Do you wanna come meet everyone?" he asks.

On one hand, Clementine is smart enough to know that disappearing into the darkness with a stranger, even one who on first impressions seems friendly and harmless, is a bad idea. On the other, wasn't this what she wanted – a little bit of excitement to kick off her summer? And wouldn't Mariana be so disappointed, if Clementine came back to school on Monday with a story that ended in her having a quiet and all-round uneventful evening?

Clementine puts her hand into her pocket, closing around her phone, hoping that Lee won't miss her too much, and nods.

"Sure," she says.

Louis leads them back around the corner, picking out the route easily in the dark.

"We're not the coolest bunch," he explains, "but like, when’s cool ever been interesting? And we're still with it, if you get me.

Clementine doesn't, but she smiles anyway.

In a circle, in the gravel around a small campfire, there are a bunch of kids laughing and talking. They look to have been there for a while, if the fire's anything to go by, and the volume of their voices and the empty bottles surrounding them.

"Damn, Louis," one of the girls shouts at his approach, "it took you long enough!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he says. "I brought a friend."

He tosses the car keys back to one of the boys – with a blond mullet haircut, who's still got a drink by his feet – and cracks one of the beers free to pass to the redheaded who had shouted.

"Who's this?" asks another boy.

"This is Clementine," says Louis happily. He takes his place back in the circle, and gestures for Clem to sit down too. The other kids shift around to make room. "Clementine," he says, "these are my friends."

"Unfortunately."

"Shut up, Keifer!"

"Marlon." There's a girl sitting on the blond boy's knee, and she sighs and nudges him in the shoulder. "Be nice."

"What?" he laughs. "I'm hardly bein' serious!"

He and Louis are grinning at each other anyway, but the girl rolls her eyes.

"I'm Brody," she says, "and this is Marlon."

"Keifer."

Marlon punches Louis in the arm.

"That's Aasim," Brody says, ignoring the two boys, and pointing to the one sitting directly next to Clementine. "And Ruby." The redhead with the beer. "That's Sophie, and Mitch –"

"Hey," says Sophie.

"And those two." Brody grins. "Violet and Minnie."

Mostly they seem friendly enough. Ruby greets with a _howdy_ and Louis passes over a beer; Aasim says he'll open it for her, despite not having one of his own. Mitch looks unfazed, but still tips his head. He’s flipping the cap of a Zippo in his hand as if he's debating lighting another cigarette; there are a couple of amber butts scattered on the ground near his feet. Violet is watching carefully, maybe even curiously, from across the circle. The firelight is glinting off the pins on her denim jacket.

"She was wandering around near the road," Louis says. "Parents are over at the function room, so..."

"Yeah, I thought somethin' was goin' on."

"They're from out of town," says Mitch. "When I was on my way here, some guy and his friends stopped to ask me."

"It's a reunion, of sorts," says Clem.

"Who'd hold it out here?"

"Well..." Clem shrugs. "I dunno either. Anyway, it's nice to meet you all, uh, thanks Louis."

There's a babble of acknowledgement, and Clementine takes a swig of her beer. There's only one person who hasn't shown her courtesy, really, and that is Minnie, on the other side of the fire. She and Sophie look very similar, and Clem gets to thinking that they must be twins or at least sisters. The only difference is their hair – where Sophie's is straight, long and blonde, Minnie's is cropped and shaven on one side, dyed bright red.

Oh and, for whatever reason, she's glowering in Clementine's direction. She seems not to notice that Violet is pressed tightly against her side.

“No offence,” she says, unprompted, “but I’m not sure you’re really gonna fit in here, Clementine."

“Minnie!” Louis chides.

“What?” she says. “I bet you go to one of those fancy schools, don’t you? And Daddy pays thousands for tuition and you’re gonna become a lawyer, or a doctor, or some shit."

"Oh, Minnie, don't say that," moans Brody.

"So what if she does," says Sophie.

“Uh…” Clementine isn’t sure how to respond. “No, I… I’m just at the state school. I might go to college or… something… but…"

Minnie scoffs and rolls her eyes.

Clementine doesn't know what she's done to incite Minnie's anger; can only assume that she's taken offence to something that Clementine's wearing, or the shape of her face, or _something_. Aasim gives her a look that is clearly apologetic, and so she tries to put it out of her mind.

Marlon knocks back the dregs of one beer, and quickly reaches for another. “Whatever,” he says. “Let’s play a game or somethin’.”

“You read my mind!” says Louis.

He brings out a beaten deck of cards from the inside pocket of his coat and shuffles them quickly in one hand.

“Have you played this before?” he asks Clementine.

“Well, what is it?”

“This girl’s never been to a party before in her life.”

“Minnie, shut up.”

“Leave her,” says Violet. It’s the first time she’s spoken and she’s got a soft, husky sort of voice that does something funny to Clementine’s stomach. She tightens her fingers around Minnie’s thigh and glances unreadably at Clem, who offers a weak smile of gratitude. “Pass the fuckin’ deck, Louis."

“Okay,” he says, “so this is called… Two truths and a lie.”

“Oh, brother!”

“What?” Louis laughs, looking gleefully at Sophie as she shakes her head, rolling her eyes – like Minnie, only less intimidating. “We gotta get to know people.”

“You mean, you wanna know Clementine,” Mitch says.

"Sure,” Louis agrees, “whatever, don’t you?”

“I don’t really mind.”

“It’s okay,” Clem says quickly. “I’m sure it’ll be interesting."

Louis grins, drawing a card from the deck and passes it to Marlon on his left. “Whoever gets highest, guesses. Whoever gets lowest... you know."

Finally, the deck comes all the way back to Clementine, and she's relieved to find that she pulls a Seven.

"I've got a King," says Sophie. "Anyone got anything higher?"

"Got a Queen," says Mitch, throwing the card in front of him.

"A damn Three!" says Marlon. "Louis, you rigged this."

"You pulled your own card!"

"From the deck _you_ shuffled."

"No one cares," says Violet. "Try to impress us."

Marlon groans, and shuffles around so that he can sit Brody more comfortably on his lap. He wraps his arms around her middle and rests his chin on her shoulder, so that her auburn hair tickles his cheek. She kisses his temple.

"I bought a motorbike last weekend," he says placidly. "I was kicked out of Third Grade for stabbing the teacher with a protractor. Uh, my grandparents are from... Utah?"

"Oh, what the fuck," says Mitch.

"Put a bit of effort in, Marlon." 

“ _What?_ ”

“That’s too easy,” giggles Sophie. “Obviously your grandparents aren’t from Utah.”

“So?” he says. “Come up with a better one.”

“Yeah,” Minnie jeers, “it’s almost like we all know one another.”

“There are plenty of things I don't know about you, Minerva!” Louis tells her. He alone seems unfazed by Marlon’s lack of creativity. “And what about Aasim? – I bet you don’t know a lot about him, but I do.”

“Why’ve you bought a motorbike?” Violet asks.

Again, there's just something about her husky voice that makes the hairs on Clementine's arms stand up. She doesn’t know why exactly, just wants to hear more.

Marlon shrugs. “It looks cool.”

“Can you even ride it?”

“We took it for a test run on Sunday,” says Brody. “It’s really fast. Almost ran into a couple of cops, but it was worth it.”

Marlon smiles up at her like she’s just gifted him the world, and when she looks down he surges to kiss her. They topple over into a pile on the floor and Louis clears his throat. 

“Shall we go again?”

Now Violet pulls highest, and Mitch the lowest.

“Alright,” he says, “easy. I was sent to Ericson because my mom tried to ground me for setting fire to the shed in the backyard, so I blew up her car. I’ve never been out of Georgia. I took my first cigarette from my Nana’s ashtray when I was ten years old.”

“What’s Ericson?” asks Clementine.

“Oh...” Louis chuckles awkwardly. “It’s where we all met."

“It’s a boarding school,” explains Aasim, “for uh...”

“Young offenders,” Marlon supplies.

“Troubled children.”

Minnie is shaking her head as if it’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard. Luckily, Violet doesn't decide to entertain her. There seems to be too much thought put into the other two options, thinks Clementine, and Violet clearly agrees because after a moment she says,

“The lie is that you’ve never been outta Georgia.”

“Wrong,” says Mitch proudly. “It was my dad's car that I blew up.”

A groan echoes around the circle.

“Oh, Mitch,” scolds Ruby, “that’s cheatin'.”

“We didn’t specify,” he says with a smirk, and leans back onto his elbows looking very pleased with himself. "You could say I was better at this game than you are."

Louis passes the deck around again. This time Clementine pulls a Two and stares at it in dismay, until Louis says,

“Any higher than a Jack?”

There’s a negative murmur and a show of cards.

“I’ve got a Two,” says Clem, passing it over. 

“Okay, hit me!”

“Uh…”

She has to think. There are lots of things that Clementine has done in her life, and lots of stories that she could tell or allude to, but now that she comes to think of any they’ve all fled from her mind.

“Okay, I... play hockey every Saturday; have done since I was 11. Both of my parents are dead.” And then the lie: “Every year I go up to Wellington for a skiing holiday, for a week in December."

She doesn’t know where it comes from. She just knows that the kids are all looking at her know with mixed expressions, somewhere between shock and confusion.

“Damn,” says Ruby, “I know which I _wish_ was the lie.”

“Yeah,” Marlon agrees, laughing a little stiffly. "That’s a bit heavy.”

“It could be a lie,” says Clem.

“But it’s not,” says Aasim, “is it?"

Clementine simply shrugs and gives everyone the time to think it over.

“Wellington’s the lie,” says Louis eventually, "with the skiing.” And then he pauses and his face falls a little. "That means... Man," he says, “I’m sorry, that’s really rough.”

“It’s okay,” Clementine says. “I was… adopted, you know? I’ve lived with Lee for years.”

She doesn’t like the word; feels like it can't possibly sum up in all the ways that Lee has helped her, and loved her, over the time that they've spent together. But it seems to encourage Louis because his smile instantly snaps back and he rattles off,

“Hey, like your brother, Minnie, Sophie! Little Tennessee? I – "

“Lou,” Marlon warns.

“Sorry, sorry, I forget.”

Minnie spares but a glance towards him but her expression is still one of surprise. Clementine sees that she makes the effort to wipe it off her face, as Clementine catches her eye, and looks quickly away.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” says Sophie. “Tenn's doin’ okay.”

“Sorry,” Louis tells her again.

Brody hiccups loudly from Marlon’s lap. “I don’t like this game,” she says. “Can we play spin the bottle instead?”

"Yeah," agrees Minnie.

Mitch scoffs. “I’m not doing that again!”

"What, why?"

"Are you chicken?" asks Violet.

"No, I agree," Aasim says. "Not after last time."

He's blushing, evident even in the low light, and tucks his head down closer to his knees; Ruby and Sophie are giggling in their little corner, and when Sophie whispers something into Ruby's ear she jabs her lightly in the stomach.

“Pass me one of those bottles, Keifer,” Louis says.

Marlon does so even as the other boys are grumbling, but then Clementine's phone rings. She can feel it vibrating deep in her pocket, and she curses to herself as she pulls it out.

It's Lee.

“Uh, hey,” she says. “Yeah, I’m alright... Over the road...”

The rest of the kids are watching her curiously. Mitch lights a cigarette.

“No, I don’t... Is it? ... Okay... Yeah... Yeah alright... I’ll come back... See you soon.”

She hangs up and slides her phone back into her pocket.

“I gotta go,” she says. “People are wondering where I am.”

“Aw, so soon?” says Marlon. “You’ve not even finished your beer!”

“It’s alright,” Clementine tells him. “It’s been good, I – here, you can have it, I don’t have cooties.”

“Sure, thanks.”

“It’s been nice to meet ya, Clementine,” says Ruby, as Clem stands up.

“Same, yeah, all of you.”

She glances at Violet, inexplicably. 

Louis stands too, as if he means to hug her. “You should bump into us again sometime.”

“Are you gonna walk her back?” prompts Brody.

“What, me? Oh, yeah.” Louis grins. “Don’t want you falling down the hill again, huh?”

“Thanks,” says Clementine.

He walks her right to the parking lot. They scramble up the embankment, and across the road, and Clementine can see that Kenny's already in the truck as the last stragglers are wishing their goodbyes at the door.

“Dad, who’s that?” asks Duck, as Clementine and Louis approach.

“Never mind,” says Kenny, and then he leans out of the window to shout, “Lee, have you forgotten where we parked?”

Lee is still talking to Carley in front of the brick wall.

“I’ll see you,” says Clem, as she pauses by the door. She pretends she can’t feel Kenny’s eyes blazing into the back of her head, nor see Duck in her peripheral with his face pushed against the window.

“Yeah,” says Louis, and as she goes to turn, “Hey! Can I get your number? This was fun, you know.”

“Oh... Okay.”

It takes a moment, but then Clementine's bashing her digits into Louis' phone – an old flip phone that she hasn’t seen in years – and then Lee's arrived with Carley in tow, and they’re properly saying their goodbyes.

“Carley's getting a lift,” Lee says as he climbs back into the truck, “if that’s alright. She’s got a hotel in town.”

“Oh,” says Kenny, “sure.”

Carley climbs up next to Clementine. She smells of wine and is chortling to herself.

“I’ve had such a great time, Kenny,” she says happily, as the truck pulls away.

Louis waves as they leave.

“Yeah,” Kenny says, “it was good, wasn’t it?”

“I hope Luke’s gonna be okay,” says Lee.

“It was my fault,” Kenny says. “I’ll ring tomorrow. Seemed alright in the end, though.”

“He seems like a tough guy.”

Clementine is sure they’ll talk about all of this tomorrow. They’ll want to know the ins and outs and who’s this boy and Clementine only has half of the answers, but as she settles back into the seat she can’t help but think that somethings finally going right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, the playlist really exists: [Here!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7LXazhGNlKS3iI0YH0iyVw?si=yeaJVgpkSOewE-I-PkJaFA)


	2. Darling Clementine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hardest thing about the goddamn story is trying to use Americanisms whilst still being obnoxiously British.

Lee picks AJ up the following morning, while Clementine makes them all breakfast and mulls over the night before. She’s received one text from an unsaved number, thanking her for the company, with two kisses and a smiley face which she knows has to be Louis. When Lee returns home, he also comes with the news that Kenny had patched everything up with Jane and her boyfriend Luke – whom he’d punched – and that actually the rest of the night had gone really smoothly. 

Carlos had started them all on karaoke, apparently. Lee shows Clementine a Polaroid that Sarah had taken of a big group of them, all huddled around the one microphone. Lee is in the front corner.

“What we were you singing?” she asks.

“ _ Dancing In The Street _ ,” he tells her with a proud grin.

Then it’s time for hockey. She leaves Lee to do the dishes and loads her equipment into the car, with AJ fetching her boots to the door, and then she sets back off towards the school. Clementine knows that they've got a big game coming up, against one of the rival academy teams, but for once it isn't at the forefront of her mind.

She'd had some kinda weird dream last night about the girl from the parking lot, Violet. Clementine can't really remember a whole lot of it, just knows that she'd been there. She could see her pale, pointed face; her ash-blonde hair. She thinks of her quiet smiles and the firelight dancing in her eyes. Clementine is so distracted that she thinks of nothing else all throughout the game.

She wonders what type of music Violet likes; if she plays any sports; maybe about her parents. She wonders if she has weekend trips out of town, like her and Lee, or has sleepovers with the other girls or has ever been to Savannah. 

She and Minnie seem pretty close. Clem doesn't understand what's going on there, but assumes it's more than friendship.

She remembers Violet's hand, clasped around Minnie's thigh.

She'd seen how close their mouths had been when, between rounds, Minnie had leant to whisper to her.

Clementine nearly misses the puck because of that. Her teammates start shouting then, as if she's done it on purpose, because the goal is right open but Clementine can't get it out of her head. She's flushed and out of breath by the end of the game, and hugs all of the girls, but she's still thinking.

She doesn't get it. She drives homes feeling confused and a little bit predatory, and tries to put it out of her mind. Clem will likely never see Violet again, let alone have her leg muscles tensing beneath her hand nor her lips at her ear. 

So why all of this?

It's something that stays with her for the rest of the day, through church on Sunday, and into the new week. Clementine is no closer to being able to explain when she sees Mariana approaching her in the corridor on Monday morning.

"Gabe wants me to remind you to text him back," Mariana says, as she leans next to Clementine by the lockers, "and although I know you'll probably have ignored him, and I really wouldn't blame you, I wouldn't be a good sister if I didn't."

Clementine groans. "He knows I’ve got commitments, right?” 

“Oh sure,” says Mariana. “He just hasn’t stopped whining all weekend – Clem this, Clem that. You know. It’s driving me crazy.”

“Yeah,” says Clem. She stuffs the last of her books into her backpack and snaps her locker shut. “I’ve kinda got something to tell you though.”

"Have you got a boyfriend?"

“What? No.”

“Well I know you were out on Friday, and I’ve not heard from you either!"

“I had hockey–” Clem tells her.

" _ All  _ weekend?"

“No. Sorry. I don’t have an excuse.”

They walk down the corridor together. Their first class is Math, which Clementine hates, but Mariana is the teacher's favourite and so it’s never completely awful. Mariana has been her best friend since she arrived in Fourth Grade, with no playmates and no one to see after school, and she’d sat down next to Clementine at lunchtime and offered to share her fries. Clementine can hardly remember life without her now, let alone think of a secret they don't share. But this? It's different.

“So you’ve met someone?” Mariana asks.

“Not exactly... Not like that...”

They take their places in the class and start to pull out their notepads, pens and pencils. The teacher has yet to arrive.

“So?”

“There was a guy,” says Clementine. “You know how Kenny gets crazy about drinking? We'd gone to the party, and someone bought me a drink and he got mad. Everyone was arguing, I went out for a walk and I just bumped into this guy–"

"Bumped into? What's his name?"

"Louis. That's not the point. He and his friends let me hang out with them–”

“Is he cute?" Mariana grins.

“That isn’t where this is going!”

“Well?”

“Sure,” says Clem. She hasn’t really thought about it but from memory, he has a line of freckles running over his nose and a sorta goofy smile and yeah, she supposes, he's alright, but that's it. “He asked for my number.”

Mariana squeals.

“Show me!” she says. “Jeez, you know Wardy has to pick up his morning coffee on a Monday, he’ll be five minutes, pass me your phone!”

And Clementine does, against better judgement, holding her breath. Mariana clutches at it hungrily and her eyes immediately light up. Moments later she starts mashing at the keyboard.

"I didn't know what to put – hey, don't text him!"

Clementine snatches her phone back just in time. Mariana has drafted a reply with three kisses and a winky face, asking if they can meet again, but she hasn't been able to send it.

“It’s not like that,” Clementine insists. She can feel a hot blush engulfing her face. “There was someone else."

“As well as this guy?"

“I don’t know how to put it.”

“Well –"

“Good morning!”

It’s at this point that their teacher bustles into the room and Clementine shoves her phone hastily back into her pocket. Mr Ward is a balding, slightly overweight man in his 60s, who today (as predicted) arrives with a cup of coffee in one hand and a stack of papers and his laptop tucked under the other arm.

“Quieten down, now," he says, "let's all get ready for some equations. I want everyone focused today – you’ve had the entire weekend to chat. Katie, can you pass these sheets around, please? Thank you.”

Clementine has to let her conversation die down, but she can't ignore Mariana's wide grin. She thinks she's onto something, Clementine knows she does, and soon Clementine's gonna turn around and say no, it's not a boy, it's another girl.

And Mariana's gonna have to deal with that.

The more Clementine thinks about it, the more her nerve fails her. 

She doesn’t understand too much about algebra, either, but it's better than trying her unravel her feelings and so she tries her best to make sense of the numbers and lines on the whiteboard for the rest of the lesson. Mariana keeps glancing over and smirking, and slides Clementine a pink Post-It note halfway through the lesson.

Clementine scrunches it up in spite of Mariana's protests.

They head off to their separate classes then – Art for Mariana, History for Clementine – and don’t reconvene until lunch. By the time Mariana is sitting down beside her, Clementine has already replied to Gabe (r _ ain check,  _ she suggests) and has the text from Louis open in front of her.

“You’re not letting this drop, are you?” Clementine says, when Mariana drapes herself over her shoulder.

“You wanted to tell me, so spill it!”

“It’s just a friendship thing,” Clementine insists. 

“Is that all?”

“Yes!” She looks down at her phone again. “I just don’t know what to say.”

Mariana sighs, as if her dreams have been dashed. “Dear Louis," she says, "– was that his name? – it was good to meet you. Do you want to go out, in a non-romantic way, and talk about our feelings?”

“I’m serious,” Clementine tells her.

So Mariana takes her phone again. The text that she drafts this time is less flirty and simply says that she’s enjoyed the night and asks when everyone is next meeting – with Clementine providing a little more context, although omitting any mentions of Violet specifically. She hands it back without pressing send and Clementine scans the message. 

“And then,” Mariana says unhelpfully, “you can add on: sorry for the late reply, I’m so impossibly busy with sports and church that socialising is last on my list.”

Clementine rolls her eyes and sends the text.

She waits all day for a response until, at quarter to four, when she’s pulling up into the driveway and listening to AJ recount his grievances, her phone vibrates on the dashboard.

AJ has been in trouble again, for telling his friend Adam that his ideas and games were stupid and AJ seems hard-pressed to accept that he's in the wrong. Mainly, he repeats that he'd only been telling the truth. Clementine figures it's essential to teach him the importance of considering other people's feelings before he can race off into the house.

"If I said that I didn't like Superman or Calypso Cauliflower," Clementine reasons, "wouldn't you be upset?"

"No one dislikes Calypso!" AJ tells her seriously.

"Exactly, and maybe Adam feels like that about monsters," she says. "You don't have to tell the whole truth, all the time."

"Hmm," AJ says, "I dunno."

Clementine lets him run through to the living room, and heads into the kitchen to make a drink and finally allow herself to read the message. Once she's thrown her bag beneath the counter, and set a big glass of orange juice in front of her, she slides onto one of the barstools and pulls out her phone.

_ I thought u were ghosting me haha _ , came Louis' reply.  _ We see each other like every day so w/e but most of us come home at weekends. Next Saturday?? Think Marlon & Brody wanna go to Fort Hawkins. Xx _

_ I’ve got hockey _ , Clementine tells him,  _ 12-2 and sometimes I have to babysit my brother. _

AJ, right now, has unlocked the door to the backyard and is spinning in circles on the lawn with the aeroplane that Lee had made for him from toilet roll tubes.

Clementine has hardly had a chance to send an additional text before the three little bubbles pop up and Louis replies,

_ How old is he? Xx _

_ 5. _

_ Bet he’d like Fort Hawkins. Xx _

_ He can be a bit funny with strangers lol. _

She pauses, then gets up from the kitchen table to check the calendar on the wall. Lee had started religiously cataloguing his day to day for her benefit when she was younger, so that they knew when they had time to go to the park or the zoo or visit Clementine's parents in Greenwood Cemetery, and he’s never really fallen out of the habit. There's always 'Kenny AA' on Tuesdays and 'AJ school run' on Fridays, but the coming weekend is for once miraculously free.

_ I’ll ask Lee when he gets home,  _ Clementine types,  _ but it looks like I could be ok. _

_ Sweet! Need to ask about the plan. Xx,  _ comes the reply.

Then, as it turns out, Marlon lands himself with a weekend of detention, after supposedly getting caught riding the motorbike around in circles on the sports field. It had really gouged some damage into the pitch, Louis tells Clementine over the phone, but the school were struggling to pin the blame on anyone else except Marlon, simply because he refused to speak.

"We could see it out of Omar's dorm window," Louis giggles as he tells her. "Some of the girls had placed bets on how long before he'd get caught."

"Was it Marlon's idea?" Clementine asks.

"No," says Louis. "Mitch dared him to do it."

So they rearrange the plans a little. Clementine still has to go to hockey, and Louis says that he'd rather sleep in on a Saturday anyway, but he invites her round to his house for dinner in the afternoon and Clementine happily accepts.

She stays at Mariana's on the Friday, and luckily she gets away without talking about any feelings or emotions of the sort. Gabe on his best behaviour doesn't even make things awkward, and they have a bit of a playfight in the kitchen over who gets to eat the last of the cookie dough, until Kate breezes through with a new tub of ice-cream and plonks it in between them all. Saturday morning sees them all eating pancakes and syrup around the dining room table, and then Clementine has to get ready to leave.

"Text me!" Mariana insists, as she's heading out of the door. "Tell me everything that he says!"

Clementine refuses to promise anything. It's almost a surprise, therefore, when she picks up her phone after hockey and all that Mariana has done is tag her on Facebook, commenting ' _ lol u _ ' on a meme. There  _ are _ two texts, however – the first, from Louis, asking if she wants him to pick up any snacks. The second is from Lee, asking her to pick up some milk.

Clementine figures it's two birds one stone and advises both of them that she'll drive through town.

She's still wearing her hockey uniform, which admittedly doesn't smell the greatest, but Clementine thinks it'll hardly matter that she wears it to pick up a few items. She pulls into the parking lot of their local store, takes the spare change that she keeps in the glove box, and hops out of the car.

There's no one behind the counter when she enters Greene's Convenience, but Clementine is used to that. She turns left down the first aisle to pick up a pint of milk and takes some hummus and sour cream from the refrigerators too. She pays no attention to the tinkle of the doorbell behind her. She should probably get something for AJ, she thinks, as she  _ ums _ and  _ ahs _ beside the candy bars, trying to decide whether Louis is more of a Hershey's or Reese's kinda guy. She settles on one of each instead, and takes a Butterfinger for Lee and AJ. Clementine is rounding the corner into the savoury snack aisle when she hears the familiar voice.

"They're for my mom!" a girl is arguing, from the front of the store, and Clementine's ears **** prick to immediate attention. She's been thinking about that voice for the past week and it seems too much of a coincidence now, to be hearing it in her local store.

She grabs the nearest bag of chips and hurries to peer around the corner.

The owner's son, Shawn, is shaking his head behind the counter.

"Nope," he says, "you know the rules. If you're not 21, you're not allowed to buy. If you don't have any ID, I can't sell you cigarettes."

"Ya, and who's keepin' tabs on that?"

"Sorry," says Shawn.

Clementine creeps forward. It's Violet, sure enough. She's wearing the same grey jeans and combat boots, but today has a flannel shirt tied around her hips instead of a jacket and is wearing a distressed white crop top.

"Look, shit," she says, "I don't have ID. They're not for me!"

"It doesn't matter," says Shawn. "The point is–"

"Hey," says Clementine gently as she steps out from behind the chips. She means it as a greeting more to Shawn but also as an approach to Violet, who jumps slightly and jerks her head. Her eyes widen in the moment of recognition. 

"I'll be a minute, Clementine," Shawn tells her wearily.

"It's alright," she says. "I know this girl... I can vouch. The cigarettes are for her mom."

She doesn't dare look over her shoulder as she approaches and places her own items on the counter, because she can only imagine the faces that Violet is pulling behind her.

"Huh," says Shawn. "School buddies, or something?"

"Same friend circle," she says instead and smiles forcedly. 

Shawn chews the inside of his lip, expression softening as he looks from Clementine to Violet again and back, and then he's shaking his head once more and turning to open the cabinet.

"You're sure?" he asks. "They're not for anyone else?"

"They're not for us," Clementine tells him.

"Okay," he says, "well, don't say anything."

Clementine nods solemnly.

Violet comes forward to pay for them, disbelieving, as Shawn places the pack of Lucky Strikes on the countertop.

"Just this once," he says warningly. "Tell your mom she needs to buy her own, and that she can't send you, you hear? It's more than my job's worth."

"Ya." Violet shrugs. "I know. Thank you."

"Okay."

He rings up Clementine's items next and packs her snacks into a bag for her. She says she'll carry the milk. Violet waits by the doorway, and although Clementine isn't sure whether it's out of gratitude or whether she simply doesn't want to expose them, either way she's rather pleased with herself.

"Thanks, Shawn," she says, when he hands over her change, "see you next Sunday. Are you coming, Violet?"

They step outside into the bright sunshine together, and have barely made it three steps when Violet says,

"You didn't have to do that."

"It's nothing much," Clementine tells her. "I just stop by a lot."

"You know the guy or somethin'?"

"Sorta. He knows family friends."

"Right, ya."

There's a short pause, and then Clementine asks, "They're  _ not  _ for you, are you?"

Violet scowls. "I'm not a liar," she says.

"No, I–"

"Forget it. My mom wants cigarettes and she's working; I'm not. She'll be in a bad mood if she hasn't had one by dinner."

"I didn't realise you were local," says Clementine. She tries to steer the conversation quickly away from the touchier subject. "I've never seen you around before."

"Maybe you have," Violet says. "Just never noticed."

"Yeah, maybe."

And still, they're loitering in front of the store.

Clementine wants to tell Violet that she's hardly stopped thinking about her since they met, but that's too much and she damn well knows it. She takes the time instead to properly look Violet over –the gentle jut of her cheekbones, sharp clavicle and the slope of her stomach, her long legs – and Violet seems to be doing the same.

"What'd you play?" Violet asks eventually, a little awkwardly, and nods towards Clementine's outfit.

"Oh, it's hockey," Clementine tells her. "I've come straight from."

"You look like you'd do track," Violet says. "We've got a pitch, at Ericson. The girls wear things like that."

Clementine smiles. She weighs the milk in her hand.

"I better go–" says Violet.

"Oh! Yeah sure, sorry, your mom."

"No, it's – thanks, anyway, I appreciate it." She looks at the ground and scuffs the toe of her boot. Clementine isn't sure if she's supposed to walk away, but then Violet continues. "And... I'm sorry if we didn't really get off on the best foot last week... with Minnie, uh..."

"She doesn't like me much, does she?" Clementine guesses.

A small smile creeps onto Violet's lips and she lifts her head. "She's jealous," she says. "She'll be alright."

"Jealous, of what? Not me?"

Violet draws in a breath, releasing it a moment later in a soft laugh that Clementine believes is somehow at her expense and feels her ears burn as Violet looks her slowly up and down.

"See ya 'round," she says, without another word and turns away.

Clementine is left standing clutching her milk and groceries bag in stunned silence.

After calling back at home, showering and changing, she jumps back into the car. Omid, the neighbour, has to jump-start the engine (with considerable help from Crista, his wife, who manages just fine with a baby swinging from her hip) but eventually she gets on route to Louis’ and pulls into the driveway of one of the largest houses she’s ever seen in the city. There’s already a slick, black Mercedes parked in front of the garage.

Louis meets her by the door, in an old baseball jersey and sweatpants.

“The car’s alright there isn’t it?” Clem asks. “No parents coming home?”

“No, it’s just me and my dad now,” Louis says, “but he’s working all weekend so you’ll hardly see him. He’s in the study.”

He leads her through the house, which isn’t all that different from Clementine's – except for the three lounge rooms, four bathrooms and countless doors that Louis doesn’t have any specific explanation for. His bedroom, on the top floor, smells strongly of aftershave and is impeccably clean. Louis has a few books and papers stacked on his desk with Ericsson’s logo emblazoned across the front, from which Clementine quickly learns that he takes music and art, amongst three different classes for English language and literature. Gucci sliders and a pair of Balenciaga sneakers are tucked neatly beneath the chair.

"Well, make yourself comfortable!" Louis says. "I can get drinks if you want?"

"No," says Clem, "I'm good."

They decide to play a couple of games first off – Louis, who says that he misses his consoles while he's away during the week and Clementine, who has only ever had the luxury whilst at Mariana's, either playing _ Tomb Raider _ with her or, on occasion,  _ Call of Duty _ with Gabe and David. Louis seems excited to share it and quickly digs the controllers out of the wardrobe.

“I bumped into Violet earlier,” Clem tells him, as she settles on the edge of the bed and waits for Louis to connect everything to the tv in the corner.

"Oh, shit," he says, with a small laugh. "Did you say much?"

"Yeah." Clem nods. She doesn't know whether to explain about the cigarettes. "We talked for a while."

"That's good! I thought... you know, at first, like maybe y'all wouldn't get on, but no, that's good!"

"Does – Does her mom work in town?"

"Oh, yeah," Louis says. "The diner on Dogwood Road? She's there, most days. And then at Lucy's, when she's not."

"The bar?"

"Right in town, yeah."

"Oh..."

He glances over his shoulder and, at the look on Clementine's face, quickly continues,

"Not drinking, you know, she works there too."

"I see."

Louis pauses. He's still kneeling in front of the Playstation.

"Look," he says, and shuffles around. "I'm not gonna lie. Violet's tough. Man, she's got a way sometimes; people don't always like her in the beginning. She didn't like  _ me _ all that much. But she grows on you. Fuck, no one at Ericsson's had it easy! – but Vi, she – she's real sweet at heart."

"I'm not judging any of you," Clementine says steadily. "If it wasn't for Lee... I don't know where I'd be."

"Yeah," Louis says. "It sounds like he's been good for you."

There's a pause. Clementine wants to ask, although she knows it's rude, what Louis is doing at Ericson, but she figures he'll explain when he's ready. To lighten the mood, she nods towards the television.

"Is it on?"

"Oh! Yeah."

They play for about three hours – Clementine isn't sure which game, exactly, but their characters do a lot of running and blowing up buildings. They only stop to open the chips, and for Louis to fetch them some juice around halfway through. Then, when the sun is setting, Louis pauses the game again to answer a call from downstairs.

"We'll be down in five minutes," he shouts from the doorway, and turns readily back to Clementine. "Dinner?" he asks.

"Sure."

There's a lady in the kitchen when they arrive, stirring a large pot atop the stove with her back to them. She has long blonde hair that's pulled into a high ponytail and an apron with a pocket tied around her waist.

"Your dad's eating in his study," she says to Louis, glancing up, "the silly man. He never stops, does he? But as it's a casserole I thought I'd let you choose how much you want and, obviously, I don't know how much this young lady can eat."

She beams at Clementine and then goes back to stirring.

"Who's that?" Clementine whispers.

"Housekeeper," Louis mouths. "Lucy."

She doesn't stay with them for long; simply dishes out one serving and then hands the ladle to Louis, who isn't shy and fills his bowl almost to the brim. Lucy says she'll clear up afterwards, so instructs them to leave their dirty dishes on the table and then takes the other bowl up to the study, and Louis and Clementine sit alone at the dining table.

They chat a little more; nothing in particular, about their lives and their schools, friends and family. Clementine tells Louis that Lee is a teacher, and that her little brother keeps getting into trouble at his elementary for biting people – and swearing, which Louis finds hilarious. His parents are lawyers, who met through their work. Clementine even thinks that she might have heard one of their names in the papers before now.

"What's the grossest thing you've ever eaten?" she asks, when they're sitting with full stomachs and empty dishes and finishing the last of their drinks.

"Cantaloupe," Louis tells her automatically.

"What?"

"I fucking hate cantaloupe."

"I've eaten pickled pigs feet," Clementine tells him, and when Louis pulls a face, she says, "My Uncle Kenny's into weird things like that, okay!"

He laughs.

"Next question."

"Ever had a boyfriend? You can ask me if I've ever had a girlfriend."

Clementine shrugs. "I suppose there's a guy at school," she says. "Ah – Gabe – Mariana's brother."

"And?"

"I don't know," she says, "he wants me to go out with him. But he's just like a big brother for me. I suppose I've never really felt anything else." She pauses, thinking about the week back in Junior High when Aaron Evans had walked her from class to class and held her hand, but that didn't really count. "No," she says, "just friends."

Louis smirks. He leans over the table and props his chin up on the heel of his hand.

"Have you ever wanted one?"

Clementine laughs in spite of herself. She feels like she's had this exact conversation before with Mariana, with the only difference being that Mariana hadn't waggled her eyebrows. Louis might be joking; he might genuinely be curious; for all Clementine knows he could be asking her out. She decides not to rise. She counteracts the question, mimicking Louis' pose on the table and saying,

"Have  _ you _ ?"

"Wanted a boyfriend?" Louis repeats. "I haven't, for the record." He retracts with a grin and kicks playfully at Clementine's legs beneath the table. "I get it, I won't pry."

"No undisclosed feelings?"

"It's a no," he says, shaking his head. He stands up from the table, beckoning with a tilt of his head. "Come on, anyway, I wanna show you something."

It's early into the next morning when Clementine finally arrives home. She'd spent far longer than intended with Louis, that's for sure – almost twelve hours in his company alone – but she doesn't mind too much. Louis makes her laugh. He's a little cheesy, a little nerdy, and easy to chat to. He'd let Clementine choose the film, and then talked through its entirety. He'd given her a rendition of  _ Oh My Darling Clementine _ , much to her embarrassment (and amusement) and a few hours had been spent beside the piano after that too, until his dad had appeared from the study and told them to quieten down.

By Clementine's count, it's 2am when Louis is waving her from his doorstep, and the journey is around ten minutes. But it's a peaceful drive home.

The house is dark and silent on her approach, and the porch light only flickers to life when Clementine steps up to the door and rummages for her keys. At first, the door won’t open – it unlocks but instantly collides with something solid on the other side, as if someone has moved a small table into the hallway in Clementine's absence. There's a low squeal and a brief scuffling and then the door swings open.

“AJ!” Clementine hisses, when he staggers out from behind it. “What are you doing down there?"

He's wearing pyjamas and fluffy socks and has a look of mild panic on his face. Clementine hoists the boy up onto her hip without thinking, even though he’s getting far too big for it now, and locks the door behind them with one hand.

“I was keeping watch,” AJ tells her. His voice is low and apologetic, and his fingers curl into the collar of Clementine's jacket. He's freezing cold.

"How long have you been awake?" she asks incredulously. 

"I just wanted to see you come home," AJ says.

"But I've been gone for hours. You've gotta start staying in bed, goofball."

"Alvin Junior."

"Alvin Junior when you stay in bed," she says.

It's a little difficult trying to climb the stairs in the darkness with a five-year-old on her hip, but Clementine inches her way to the top. She can hear Lee snoring from his bedroom, and see the faint glow of AJ's nightlight from his.

"I love that you wanna look after us, AJ," she says, "but you don't need to always be on patrol."

"I'm like a firefighter," AJ tells her. "Or a policeman."

"Yeah, and firefighters are brave," says Clementine, "so let's get back into bed and I can tuck you in–"

"No."

"No?"

"I wanna sleep in your bed."

AJ presses his head further beneath her chin, and Clementine has no choice but to redirect her steps.

"Alright," she sighs, "alright, just this once... but tomorrow, you're sleeping through, okay?"

"Okay."

She switches on the bedroom light and lets AJ slide to his feet. She straightens his pyjamas and then helps him into her bed, tucking the comforter around him so that all she can see is AJ's big brown eyes staring up from the pillow.

"I'll be five minutes," Clementine assures him.

She visits the bathroom, slings her clothes into the laundry and changes into fresh sleepwear. She knows she ought to tell Louis that she's arrived home safely. It's been a long time since she's caught AJ wandering the hallways, and in truth, Clementine has almost forgotten that it's still something he does. She's forgotten how to deal with it. It occurs to her, suddenly, that when they first brought AJ home, it had taken months to convince him to sleep anywhere but  _ beneath  _ the bed. It's a blessing therefore that, when Clementine finally climbs back beneath the duvet, AJ wraps his arms around her neck.

"I love you, Clem," he whispers into the darkness.

Clementine presses her face into his hair.

"I love you back," she tells him, and she's never been as sure of anything else in her life.

She'll text Louis tomorrow, she thinks, on his 2006 flip phone that's at odds with everything else he owns, and he'll understand. Still, even as AJ's breathing evens out steadily beside her, and Clementine's phone lights up with a text on the table, her very last thought before falling asleep is not of either one of them.

She imagines another girl's arms, longer hair tickling her nose; dreams of green eyes, and of the tiny purple flowers that she'd seen growing outside the convenience store.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't resist with the Gucci sliders not gunna lie. Also, Mr Ward aka 'Wardy' is actually the name of my favourite Maths teacher at high school. To this day I'll maintain he is the only reason I ever got a B in my GCSE.


	3. Wouldn't It Be Nice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the words of Alyssa Edwards - back, back, back again.

"Move your elbow," Mariana whispers, slyly into Clementine's ear. Clementine's had her head down for most of the hour, but now she looks around. "I need to copy your notes."

It's a Tuesday afternoon, and they're sitting in the dark at the back of the science classroom, between Peter and Antoinette, and are supposed to be watching the video that's playing on the roll-out television set beside the teacher's desk.

"Haven't you made your own?" Clementine whispers.

"No, I don't know what to put."

"Maybe you shouldn't be listening to music."

"Come on," Mariana whines, "am I your best friend or not? You borrow mine for Math all the time."

"I still make my own!" Clementine tells her, but she shoves the notepad aside anyway. It's difficult to refuse, when she glances at Mariana's page, and sees that all she's written so far is ' _ Mitochondria is the Powerhouse of the Cell'  _ – the title of the day's lesson.

And they  _ are _ best friends, after all.

Clementine figures that she owes her a favour anyway. Mariana had been hoping for something exciting when Clem had returned to school on Monday, after spending the weekend with Louis, despite being told over text that nothing had happened. She'd still been very disappointed to have it confirmed in person. Clementine had simply shown her the seven messages that she'd woken up to on the Sunday morning, all of them from Louis in varying degrees of panic, and watched as Mariana's grin slowly slipped away from her face.

It's very endearing to know that Louis cares enough about her well-being to consider calling the cops. But Mariana isn't interested in seeing Clementine make a friend. Clem has been extra careful as a result not to mention anything about meeting anyone in the convenience store, in case Mariana comes up with any bright ideas and tries to get her hitched.

"You know I can hear that, right?" Clementine murmurs, and nods towards the headphones around Mariana's neck. The tinny, electric beat of her music is audible just above the television.

"Ssh," Mariana whispers. "I'll buy tomorrow's lunch."

"Quiet, at the back, please!" says their teacher.

Clementine tucks her head back down. There's barely a moments pause before there's a soft knock on the door and then Wendy, the school receptionist, pokes her face into the room.

"Can I speak to a Ms Everett please?" she asks.

Clementine feels the eyes of the class turn to her and glances nervously towards the clock. She's sure she handed in her History essay earlier than necessary...

She definitely hasn't forgotten it.

"You might want to bring your belongings."

"Hurry," says the teacher, "take your books. I'm sure someone can bring you up to speed tomorrow."

"Keep it," Clementine hisses, as Mariana goes to return her notepad. She snatches Mariana's book from the desk instead and slides it into her bag.

"Am I in trouble?" she asks, as she falls into step beside the receptionist.

"Not as far as I know," Wendy tells her, "but your little brother's broken his arm; we have his school on the phone."

Clementine wouldn't have been surprised if AJ had been fighting again but thankfully, it's nothing quite as serious as that. When she picks him up a half-hour later, AJ has a bump the size of a tennis ball on his forehead and is holding a damp piece of blue roll tenderly over his left arm. He tells Clementine that he'd fallen from the monkey bars.

"At least it's not your right arm, huh?" Clementine jokes, as they pull into the hospital's parking lot. "You wouldn't be able to draw for weeks!"

AJ does get a little restless as they sit in the emergency room, waiting for over two hours just to be seen by a doctor. Eventually, one of the nurses brings him a colouring book and asks Clementine if she needs any additional support, being such a young mother. Clementine chooses not to correct her. Mariana messages with updates on the rest of the school day and Lee rings to ask how AJ's doing. Despite the looming threat of the exams, for once he tells Clementine that he's managed to get out of work early. He turns up at the hospital with just enough time to sign the insurance papers, and he and Clem play  _ 20 Questions _ while they wait for AJ's arm to finally be put in plaster. Then, Lee takes them for dinner.

Five Guys is what they decide on in the end, as a one-off treat. AJ seems not to care about the sling hanging from around his neck; is only aggrieved that he has to hold his burger in one hand. Clementine helps to cut it up for him and Lee folds a napkin into the top of AJ's t-shirt to shield the brand new plaster.

The young guy working behind the counter offers to sign the cast when they order milkshakes for dessert.

__ " _ Go vegan, from James, _ " Clementine reads aloud, as AJ obliviously guzzles down half of the glass. "D'you think he knows he works at Five Guys?" she asks.

"Sometimes a job's just a job," says Lee. "But, ah, maybe we should finish our shakes at home. I don't like the look he's givin' us."

The nights are beginning to grow warmer, and the days longer. They manage to catch the last half hour of sunlight as they're driving home, and AJ plays in the garden until it goes dark. Over the next few days, Clementine hears the word 'revise' begin to creep into lessons at school. Mentions of prom float around the hallways. Lee's pile of paperwork on the coffee table slowly gets bigger and bigger. He becomes a little overwhelmed with the number of essays that he has to mark – with the minimum word count being 7000 – but Clementine reminds him that this is the downfall of running his own course. Lee has to spend a considerable few evenings without moving from his armchair, but he makes a steady indent.

There are a couple of extra duties that Clementine has to pick up because of this, but it's nothing too outlandish. And AJ doesn't let a broken arm stop him from doing anything. They go to the park, he helps with the shopping, he still tries to convince Clementine to let him use the swing in the garden.

Uncle Kenny promises that he'll build AJ a treehouse, just as soon as his arm is better.

Friday afternoon comes around very quickly.

After school, Clementine meets Mariana by the car in the parking lot and has to spend five minutes helping to cram the several different art canvases into whichever places they'll fit. Not long after, when the engine is slowly grumbling into life, Gabe clambers into the back seat with his skateboard and asks Clementine why she's got a deer skull in the footwell.

"And a cookbook," he says, "honestly?"

Clementine decides it's best not to mention the crowbar that she keeps in the trunk.

There's no room for her car on the García's driveway and so she has to park further down the street. Alongside the family's minivan is another car, with dozens of parking receipts (and what look like unopened bank statements) littering the dashboard and a blue and grey sweater slung over the back of the seat. As it turns out, Clementine isn't the only guest this evening.

Their Uncle Javier is staying over – or has been staying over, Mariana corrects, for a couple of days now. There are a bundle of blankets tucked beside the sofa with a pillow and a bag of his belongings in the bathroom. Clementine has only met Javi a handful of times before, although of course she knows the stories. He's not around much, from what she can tell, but something’s happened very recently that’s brought him right back to the family home and it doesn’t look like he’ll be moving on any time soon.

“He's been gambling,” Gabe explains in a hushed tone, as the three teenagers hear the raised voices from the kitchen. “Dad isn’t pleased. Says he only comes back when he wants something.”

"I think they've expelled him from the league," says Mariana.

Clementine still likes Javi a little more than David, although she knows better than to say it out loud.

They still play dominoes, after David has stormed out of the house and Kate is trying to finish cleaning the kitchen and telling Javi that he just needs to stay out of his brother's way. He doesn’t want to talk about baseball, he says, in fact anything but. Instead, he resorts to clearing everything off the coffee table in the living room and teaching everyone the rules of  _ Chickenfoot _ . When Kate eventually joins them, she has a bandage wrapped around one hand and a glass of wine in the other.

“Where would you go,” she asks the group, “if you had the choice? – anywhere in the world.”

"I'd like to go to Mexico," says Clementine, "or maybe... see the Grand Canyon. Be there to watch the sun come up."

“I’d go to the movies,” Gabe says, “with Clementine, if she’d ever let me take her.”

“I told you,” says Javi, “we can get the car right now. I'm a little low on fuel, but – wait, Gabriel, what did you say?”

He's joking, of course, but Clementine cringes and stares at the floor.

“You and Clementine?” Javi asks.

“No,” says Clem, before Gabe can open his mouth.

“He’s a pest.” Mariana grins.

“Well, I keep asking but she never texts back!”

Kate laughs. “Something tells me you need to take a hint, kiddo,” she says.

“What? Clem,” Gabe pleads, “you wanna go, right? Just not now, ‘cos you’re busy. With hockey and your brother and stuff.”

“Gabe,” Mariana whines.

“Well, yeah...” Clementine can hardly look at him. “As friends, right?”

“Man, this is awkward,” says Javi.

“Yeah, but... you know?” 

Gabe is nothing if not persistent. When Clementine does glance up, he is staring at her with wide eyes, caught somewhere in between betrayal and desperation.

“Sorry,” she mumbles.

“On that note,” Kate says, “I’m stepping outside.”

She shoots a purposeful look towards Javi, who sniffs and quickly gets up to follow.

“Yes,” he says, “ah – fresh air!”

“We know you’re smoking weed!” Mariana shouts after them.

“Damn,” Gabe mumbles. He doesn’t seem to care what Kate or Javier are doing. “You’re really... not into it, huh?”

“She likes a boy from Ericson’s!” Mariana tells him. “Stop pining.”

“I don’t,” Clementine insists. She tries to be sincere, or at least as much as possible whilst ignoring the crestfallen look on Gabe's face. “We’re just friends.”

“Isn’t that the boarding school?”

“Do you know it?”

“Dad says only bad kids go there,” says Gabe.

“I can look after myself, you know that right?”

“Yeah! Just... Ericson’s?”

“They’re nice people,” Clementine tells him.

She thinks of Louis; how he'd said that no one was there because they wanted to be; that no one's life had been easy. She needn't have seen his papers to know that he was making straight As, but that isn't what Gabe means – there's more to the word than grades.

'Bad', thinks Clementine, means delinquency. It's reserved for people like Marlon, for buying a motorbike and racing it around the school grounds. Bad, meaning troublemakers, deviants, controversy; for people like Mitch, with his panache for arson. Bad was the fast track to prisons. To psych wards. To rehab centres and for those with no choice but to work for pittance above the breadline.

It meant that no accomplishment, however great or small, would ever be enough, or rival that of another person from a different school. No personality trait would be strong enough to overcome the idea.

No second chances. No personal growth.

But again, Clementine doesn’t say anything. She’s never been their father’s biggest fan.

“We’re not all that different," she says, and Gabe quietly apologises.

“Jeez.” Mariana rolls her eyes. “Can we lighten up? It’s a Friday night!”

“Can we play  _ Tomb Raider _ ?”

“Yes!”

When Clementine goes to get a drink, she finds Kate and Javi sitting at the dining table eating their way through two family packs of Doritos and giggling. She wonders if Kate and David giggle together like that, but tries not to dwell too much on it.

Much later, when she and Mariana are climbing into bed, Clementine decides that she's brave enough to ask.

“Mari," she says, "have you ever liked someone without a reason?”

“What do you mean?” Mariana asks.

“You’ve met someone once, and you like them but you don’t know why, because you’ve only ever had one conversation.”

"Uh, there were people I met at summer camp, I suppose," she says, as she fluffs the pillows, "but we were there for weeks together and – wait." Mariana glances up. "Are you still talking about Ericson's?"

“Could be.”

"And the night you met Louis?"

"Sure."

Clementine settles back against the wall, at the end of the bed, and steels herself against Mariana's long, searching stare and pulls the comforter around her. 

“'Like', in what sense?" Mariana asks eventually.

“It feels as if I’m waiting for something to happen,” Clementine says, “even though there’s no sense in it.”

“Could you give me a little more to go on?” Mariana suggests. “This is all very cryptic.”

Clementine chuckles, looking away.

If she just asked, Clementine is sure that Louis would send her Violet's number. She could try to arrange something herself, instead of pining for no particular reason but truth be told, Clementine is a little scared of that, too. She’s not sure if Violet cares to know her in the way that Clem does. And besides, she'd looked pretty cosy with Minnie. Clementine doesn't want to stir things between the group.

After a moment, she goes on.

“One of Louis’ friends,” she says slowly. “They live... I don’t know, somewhere in town. I probably won’t see them again, but I want to. I don't even know if they like me."

“So there's actually somebody else?" says Mariana. "You actually  _ don’t _ have a crush on this Louis guy?"

"I've told you so many times –"

"Okay, but for real? Why wouldn't they like you?"

Clementine shrugs. "I guess we haven't talked very much."

"So d'you think it's a crush?" 

"I think it's... Ugh, I don't know!"

Clementine isn’t sure; she only knows that she’d looked at Violet that night across the campfire and at Greene's Convenience beneath the LED lights and  _ felt  _ something different than before.

“I just want to...”

To what?

“Poor Gabe.” Mariana giggles, to break the tension. “You've stood him up, for someone you don't know, and even  _ I _ don’t get the courtesy of a name.”

“Come on,” Clementine says. “You know Gabe's practically my brother–"

"Hey, I'm on your side!"

"It'd be like dating you, only weirder.”

“I’d be much more interesting.”

"At least you have cute outfits I could steal," she says.

“Ugh, yeah, all you’d have in Gabe’s closet is beanies and hoodies. Maybe you could fit into his skinny jeans, if you were lucky.”

Giggling softly, they both settle back into the duvet and Mariana switches the light off. 

"I don't know why you're being so secretive, anyway," she tells Clem through the darkness. "You know there's nothing you could say to shock me. Jeez, ask for Louis' help, if it's such a big thing."

"I know," says Clem, "I know you're right. I just wanna play it cool."

" _ Cool _ ?" Mariana scoffs. "Clementine, you haven't been cool since the day I met you."

"Wow, thanks."

Mariana knees her beneath the covers.

"Take the compliment," she says. "There's nothing interesting about people who are cool."

"Huh," says Clem. "Louis said almost the exact same thing."

She falls asleep and thinks of baseball, and Mexico, and of driving fast with the windows open and wind in her hair. The promise of long hot days tease at her subconscious and conjure dreams of sunsets over the desert – of bare feet and legs – tanned cheeks – early evening haze. The skies are melted honey. The campfire's flames dance with the curling smoke into the air. Clementine can almost taste the sweetness in the breeze.

She wakes, in the morning, only a little after 9am to find Mariana already out of bed. Clementine closes her eyes for an extra five minutes and tries to retain as much of the dream as possible. All she seems to remember is the sound of Violet's laughter, and the heat of her breath against Clementine's mouth right before the kiss.

Mariana's voice jerks her back to reality.

"I don't suppose you're getting up?" she calls bemusedly. "There're bagels, for breakfast."

But it's the heat of the sunlight streaming in through the bedroom window that eventually prompts Clementine out from beneath the covers.

It's difficult for her to shake the dream, all throughout the remainder of the day. The weekend is forecast to be the hottest of the year so far. Mariana accompanies her to hockey, where she sits in the sidelines screaming Clementine's praises, and Clementine dips and dives between the others girl's arms until she has sweat pouring off her forehead. She can't help but draw the parallel between Mariana and the only other spectator – the jacked-up boyfriend of their Centre Forward, who arrives unexpectedly halfway through the match – and she wishes that Violet might appear too, unannounced, to cheer her on like him.

Afterwards, stopping only to buy a couple of drinks from the local Walmart, they drive up to Lake Chapman past the trailer park off route 10. There's bound to be a spot yet unoccupied where they can go swimming, Mariana insists, even on a Saturday, and they find it a quarter way along the lakeside trail and quickly forget that they haven't brought any towels. The afternoon is luckily warm enough to dry on the bank beneath the sun.

There's another thing that Clementine can't help but think of, of course, and it's Gabe's implications about Ericson's. As she and Mariana make their steady way back to the car in the early evening, t-shirts and shorts clinging to the fabric of their still damp underwear, sneakers in hand, Clementine allows the idea to form in her head. She decides to take a detour before dropping Mariana off, choosing the route instead that takes them past Louis' house.

"I just think it could’ve been me,” Clementine says, as she’s pulling onto the street. "And if it was, I’d want us to still be friends.”

She slows as she passes number 73 and points for illustration. The family's car is out of the driveway, but Clementine can see Lucy with a feather duster through the living room window. There's the distant sound of children calling to one another from the gardens behind. The neighbours have the sprinkler running over their lawn.

"Is that his mom?" Mariana asks.

"I don't think they live together," Clementine tells her. "It's their housemaid. She makes a good casserole."

“Big damn house.”

“Yeah,” says Clem. “I’d like you to meet him sometime. Maybe get ice cream with us. He keeps talking about that.”

“That’d be nice,” Mariana tells her.

Another car pips loudly from behind them and Clementine has to pull away. For a moment both girls are very quiet, and Clementine isn't sure whether she's made herself clear, but Mariana says, 

"Hey, you know I don't care, right?"

"What?"

"Wherever they're from. Damn, Clem, if you wanna be friends..."

Clementine glances over.

"Who am I to judge? Things like that don't matter."

"Gabe said–"

"Fuck Gabe," Mariana says, with a laugh. "God love him, but... whatever, it isn't important."

"Thanks, Mari," Clementine says.

It means a lot. She hugs Mariana before she gets out of the car, and then slowly makes her own way home. Although the tops of Clementine's shoulders are prickling with what no doubt is sunburn, she drives back towards the outskirts, watches the sunset over the city, and finally returns an hour or so later.

The next afternoon, after church, Kenny makes a start on the treehouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to those of you who have stuck around so far. Multi-chaptered works always seem like terrifying commitments to me and so, really, we've got my beta and first and foremost good pal Lauren to thank for keeping the motivation alive and well. You can check out her fics @ [MarsFlameSniper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarsFlameSniper)!


	4. Rosie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, Clementine's car was originally going to be called Ruby after the song by Ira Wolf but I couldn't deal with a fic where the car and an actual person shared the same name. Sadly, I didn't want to get into writing about actual Rosie, the dog, and so as a tribute that's the name of the car.
> 
> I hope y'all are keeping Corona Virus free or, alternatively, are getting paid leave from work :*

Heat rises in waves from the tarmac on the road. White smoke billows from beneath the hood of Clementine's car. She knows she's been warned, oh so many times before, about this kind of thing but what can she say? She loves the car. Even now, as they're all stranded at the side of the road because of its temperamental ass. AJ peers out of the window from the back seat and Mariana, riding shotgun, has her blue denim knees up on the dashboard. Her arm hangs out of the open window and she looks very bored.

"Jeez," she moans, "the one day you offer me a ride, and your car finally kicks it. Remind me to never accept a favour from you again."

"Gimme a moment," Clementine tells her. Already she's sweating under the afternoon sun and tastes the salt on her lips when she licks them.

Other cars whizz around them in the road. Grit and sand fly up and rattle against the paintwork.

"Can you try the engine again?" Clementine suggests.

"Girl, look at that thing! I'm not trying anything."

"Yeah, fuck..."

Clementine takes her cap off her head and runs a hand through her hair, standing back for a moment to assess her wreck of a car. She should be lucky it isn't black smoke pouring from the engine; then she really would be in the shit. The dilemma, however, is still the same. From the front seat, she sees Mariana raise her phone – obviously snapping a photo to upload to Facebook, and to caption with something witty and equally sarcastic.

"Alright," says Clem. She sighs and strides back around to the passenger door, jerking it open. "Pass me the keys," she says. "We're gonna walk back – see if we can't get the guys at the garage to have a look at it."

"Can't you just call someone?"

"We're minutes from town," Clementine maintains. "No way, it cost us $90 the other week, when someone had to come out to school."

"Sucks," says Mariana.

She brings Clementine's bag as well as the keys on her way, and AJ slides out of the back seat.

"What if it blows up?" he suggests.

"It's not gonna blow up, AJ."

"It could!”

“That’s very dramatic.”

Clem makes sure that AJ holds her hand and hoists her bag up over her shoulder. Leaving the smoking car at the side of the road, they head back towards the centre of town keeping their toes tucked as close as possible to the grass verge. They’ve barely ventured 20 yards, however, when a silver Toyota Tacoma passes with a speed that ruffles their hair on the other side – Clementine thinks that she recognises the vehicle even before it swerves suddenly to a stop up ahead, and a familiar face gawks out of the passenger window.

“Get a load of these creeps,” Mari scoffs, but Clementine would recognise those dreads anywhere. 

“Louis?” she exclaims.

“Wait, what?”

Clementine hurries up alongside the car with AJ in tow. Mariana comes scrabbling afterwards. Louis flings open the door as she reaches the bumper and laughs at their approach.

“Damn, I knew it was you!” he says.

It's Marlon's car, of course. Clementine had seen it only the once before, parked across from the function room on the night she'd met the kids from Ericson. Marlon is leaning over the wheel and grinning as Clementine peers in. Country rock blares from the radio and the pungent smell of weed immediately hits Clementine in the face. 

“That your piece of shit car back there?” Marlon asks.

“How did you know?”

“Fuck, no one's walkin' this road. Come on, where you headed?”

“Uh, back into town,” says Clem. “The garage? Sorry, hey, this is my friend Mariana and my little brother."

“Hey, lil dude!” says Louis. “How's that arm doing?"

"You're Louis!" AJ tells him happily.

"Yeah," he says. "You're Alvin Junior!"

“Come on,” says Marlon, “we're stoppin' traffic, jump in.”

They climb into the back seat, with other cars beeping loudly at them as they’re opening the doors into the road and Clementine shoves AJ headfirst into the jumble of takeout cartons.

“Excuse the mess.”

“Hey, let me put this out,” Louis says, quickly fanning at what little is left of their joint in the ashtray. “The kid's with them!”

“What are you even doing here?” Clementine asks. "It's a Wednesday afternoon."

"Yeah," says Louis, "Marlon wanted a day off." He ends up handing the tip over to Marlon who takes a final drag before flinging it out of the window as they pull away. "Couldn't let him take the rap on his own now, could I?"

"What–"

"Relax!" he says. "It's all cool. We're just hanging out."

He turns in the front seat to face them, grinning happily as the Toyota gathers speed.

"Are you high?" Clementine asks.

"Nah," he says. "I mean just a bit!"

"Right!"

But Clementine can't help but grin right back, because honestly, she's overjoyed. Meeting him here – with Mariana – with her little brother – even though the car is stuffy, and smells like weed and old leather seats – warms her heart, more so to know that they'd stopped.

"You caused a real stir at Ericson," Marlon tells her, exhaling a cloud of smoke with a cough as he glances into the mirror.

"Yeah," says Clementine, "how come?"

"Imagine we don't get out much," Marlon laughs. "Just cool to see new faces."

Louis has his eyes fixed on Mariana, who's still trying to place her feet somewhere on the floor beneath empty drink cups. When she looks up and meets his gaze, perhaps feeling its weight, Louis' grin widens and he instantly sticks his hand out to shake hers.

"Louis," he says.

"I heard," says Mariana. 

Clementine doesn't miss the glow that blooms across her friend's cheeks, nor the quiet little giggle that escapes accidentally.

"She's heard a lot," Clementine warns them, "so be careful."

"It's nice to meet you at last," says Louis. "And this little man in the middle – I know all about you, too."

Louis winks. AJ seems to be impressed.

"Ah, shit–"

Marlon flinches suddenly towards the dial on the dashboard as the song changes.

“This must be Brody's cd!“ he insists with a note of alarm, as  _ I Want To Know What Love Is _ comes flooding over the speakers. “Picked it up by mistake or somethin’–"

“Whatever, yeah right.” Louis jeers. “Come on, this is yours!”

“No!” Marlon scowls.

But Louis begins to sing, and Clementine tips her head back against the headrest of the seat and laughs aloud, catching Mariana's eye who looks like she might join in. As the first bridge rolls around, Marlon seems unable to help himself. Pretty soon all four of them (AJ simply grinning, not knowing the words) are singing at the top of their lungs and electing some strange looks from passing cars as they finally roll back into town.

"Where d'you want me to drop you?" Marlon asks, as the sign for the garage comes into view.

"Literally anywhere," says Clem. "This has been great, thanks."

"Hey," says Louis, "so we're always talking about ice cream..."

"Ice cream!" shouts AJ.

"Aw man," says Marlon, "you're dumpin' me now?"

"What?" says Louis. "Come on, give me like an hour – I don't know Trace like you do anyway –"

"What," Clementine says, "you wanna get ice cream right now?"

"Any better ideas?"

"Not particularly..." 

Marlon pulls the car into the parking lot. "You'll owe me," he tells Louis, but his tone is light and jokey.

"What d'you think?" says Clem, looking at Mariana for approval. "I don't have to ask AJ, after all."

"Ice cream!" he repeats again.

"I can text Kate," says Mariana, "tell her I'll be late for dinner – no bother, yeah, let's go!"

"Awesome!" says Louis.

They leave the car with the last notes of Foreigner, and Marlon raises a hand in salute as he takes back off. He makes Louis promise to meet him at the edge of Mulberry Street at quarter to six, and so Clementine hurries over to the garage to make quick arrangements.

"They'll be two hours," she says, when she comes back, a receipt in hand and her car keys and mobile number left with the guys.

With that in mind, they head across to the ice cream parlour.

"Clem," Mariana whispers, with a nudge as Louis strides ahead, "this is really him – the guy you  _ aren't  _ crushing on?"

"Yeah," says Clementine. "That's Louis."

"Coulda warned me," says Mariana. "Damn, he's cute!"

Clementine smirks and rolls her eyes.

"Knock yourself out."

Of course, Louis insists on paying. When he asks what everyone wants to order and Clementine pulls out her purse, he's quick to bat her hands away and ignores her complaints.

"I've got it," he says.

"Lou," she whines, "they're my friends!"

"And now they're mine," he says. "Trust me, I got it." As an afterthought, and maybe to stop her from feeling guilty, he tacks on, "I'll ask you for lots of favours – believe me – ask Marlon."

And so Clementine eventually lets him have his way. They all sit down with their bowls in a booth beside the window, looking out into the street as the air con grumbles softly above them. Mariana brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear with her hand and beams at Louis from across the table.

Subtlety has never been her strong suit.

Clementine can't help but think that after all she hasn't minded the car breaking down.

"Don't get the wrong idea, by the way," Louis says, taking a spoonful of mint chocolate ice cream. Mainly he's speaking to Mariana. "I don't... bunk off all the time. Actually, I've only done it once before."

"What's Marlon up to?" Clementine asks. "You know he could've just come with us, right?"

Louis shrugs. "Dunno," he says. "Meeting one of his friends. We've sorta been around all day – here and there. Didn't even get to class this morning. But, like I said, it's cool. Marlon might have a questionable record, but mine's top form!"

He looks very proud of himself. Then he turns back to Mariana.

"What is it you do at school again?"

"I'm gonna take an art major," Mariana says. "Maybe move outta Georgia – head to New York – not too sure yet."

"New York, huh? Wow, I'm staying right in the city. I hope."

"Final year?"

"Right on," says Louis. "But I've got friends here. And besides – UGA's one of the best. For English, anyway. Hey, Clem, reckon I'll see your old man around campus?"

Clementine rolls her eyes.

"Please," she says. "He's never out of lectures, you'd be so lucky."

"And what about you, AJ?"

"I'm an artist, too," says AJ boldly.

He's definitely made some sort of art out of the contents of his bowl – he's managed to get peanut butter and sprinkles all over the handle of his spoon, and subsequently his hands. Clementine grabs a napkin and wipes the sauce from the side of his face.

"Big words," chuckles Louis.

"He also wants to be a fireman," Clementine explains, "and a policeman, and a space ranger –"

"That's since he watched Toy Story," says Mariana.

"– and a scientist."

"Clem," AJ whines.

"What?" Clementine laughs.

"Mitch wanted to do Science," Louis says, "back when he first got to Ericson. And they put him in advanced classes for a few years, too, until they realised why so many of their supplies kept going missing." When Mariana frowns, he adds, "Mitch is really good at making explosives."

"My brother's gonna stay and do Biology," Mariana says. "He's leaving this year, too."

"Yeah, that's ace!"

"What about Marlon?" Clementine asks.

"Oh, he isn't going to college," Louis tells her. "No, they – he and Brody – they keep saying they're gonna leave; take the car and drive Route 66 – that Marlon's gonna start a band and, I don't know, live in San Francisco. Some real 70s fantasy." He shrugs. "Marlon's full of ideas. Brody just wants to take a road trip, I think. But I'm sorta hoping they stick around for summer..."

Sensing the sudden drop in tone, Louis forces a smile back onto his face.

"Mostly everyone else is staying," he says. "Ruby's still got another year at Ericson; our friend Omar, too, got another couple. He's your age. Violet keeps saying her mom's gonna get her a job at the diner."

They talk until the ice cream is gone and AJ has swiped his finger around the rim of everyone's bowls to gather up the dregs of syrup. Louis lets AJ have the last of his serving and then the waitress comes by with a mop and a dishcloth, and scrubs the table down in front of them. Clementine sends AJ to wash his face in the bathroom, because honestly there's only so far that her spit on a dry napkin can get them.

"Everyone sounds very interesting," Mariana says, as Louis finishes his story about Sophie, reformed vegetarian, and the disastrous school trip they'd taken to the St John's Dairy. "Hey," she says, "maybe you'll know..."

Clementine has a funny feeling that she knows what's coming.

"Hit me."

"So, Clementine says–"

"Don't you dare."

"One of your friends," Mari giggles, "lives somewhere in town."

"Yeah?" says Louis. "Ruby's the only one of us not from Georgia. She stays with her grandparents, most times at the weekend – "

"Not what I mean," says Mariana. "She says she likes this friend, but – wait, Clem, what is it? – you've met them once?"

"What," Louis laughs, "not Aasim?"

"No, not Aasim!"

Clementine wants to die. She shoves her face into her hands and wills Mariana to shut up.

"Oh, that's a relief. Aasim's had a crush of Ruby for years."

"Listen," says Mariana. Her voice goes quiet, as if she's letting Louis in on a secret. Clementine can picture the mischievous smile that's tugging on the corners of her friend's mouth and the sparkle in her eye. "She won't give me any names. I just know this dude was there with you all, when you met her, but Clem's too stubborn to say anything. And it's not the guy in the car; not with that haircut."

Clementine glances up. She knows her face is red. Mariana's hand is resting imploringly over Louis' forearm. He catches Clementine's eye for barely a second, as the wheels seem to be turning in his head, and Clementine reasons with herself that perhaps he'll think it's Mitch – the only other guy who wasn't Aasim, or Marlon, or Louis himself. 

"I think I know," says Louis eventually, and Mariana's eyes flash.

"Can we not," Clementine moans.

"Leave it with me," Louis tells her. "Wait, shit, what time is it?"

Clementine's phone vibrates loudly on the table at the same moment – a text from the garage, letting her know they'd be bringing her car over.

When AJ returns from the bathroom, they all get up to leave. Louis holds back to throw a little change into the jar of tips, and Mariana and Clementine with AJ in front push their way out into the fading sunshine. The air is still humid and hits them right in the face. Clementine squints towards the highway, where she can just make out the silhouette of her car against the setting sun. The engine is no longer smoking.

"Hey!"

Louis jogs beside her. He catches Clem's arm, purposefully holding her back, whilst Mariana ahead grabs a hold of AJ's hand before he can rush out too far.

"The person you like," says Louis. "I don't wanna pry, but – "

"It isn't important."

"– it's Violet, isn't it?"

"What?"

Clementine's stomach drops.

"I'm just asking!" he says, holding his hands up. "I just had a feeling... Like, maybe it's not one of the guys."

Clementine feels her heart sink like a stone. She doesn't know what criticisms she's expecting – not from Louis – but it's disconcerting, all the same, to have her pretence seen through quite so clearly. She hasn't a clue how he knows. It could have been Mitch, she tells herself desperately. It could have been Mitch! But it wasn't. It was Violet, and Louis knew.

Clementine is frozen to the spot.

"I get it," says Louis, when she doesn't reply, "it's not my place, I know. Just wanted to help."

He goes to move away and only then does panic prompt Clementine into action. She grabs his arm, pulling him back. Louis' eyes widen at her sudden intensity.

"This has never happened before," she hisses. "Please don't tell anyone!"

"Hey," he says, patting her arms, "a secret's safe with me."

"Are you sure?"

"I'll pinky promise."

Mariana, standing beside the car as it pulls up, calls out to them, "Guys, are you coming?"

"Trust me," Louis says, "and incidentally..." A smirk creeps onto his face. "Is Mariana single?"

Clementine feels the breath whoosh out of her in a laugh. The tension breaks. She should've known this would happen.

"Yeah," she tells him, "she is."

"Excellent," Louis says.

"And very into boys with dreadlocks."

"Even better!"

Clementine doesn’t really get much chance to think about it anymore, until she's lying alone in bed that night and turning her phone over in her hands. They'd exchanged numbers – Mariana and Louis – and Mariana had saved a picture of him to use as the contact photo. When the screen lights up beneath Clementine's fingers, the text from Mariana reads,

_ Louis is great fyi Im so glad u arent interested lol xoxo _

Clementine neglects to mention that the person she's into has blonde hair instead of brown and breasts instead of a flat chest and is really, honestly, the exact opposite from what she's seen to everything that Louis is.

Not that it's a bad thing. They're just different.

She places her phone on the bedside table and turns to bury into the pillow. There's a gentle breeze from the open window that catches the tops of her arms. Clementine closes her eyes and sighs. She hears Lee come up the stairs, talking quietly on the phone to someone, laughing softly. Then the gentle click of his bedroom door. That's been happening a lot lately. From the sounds of it, his love life seems to be moving faster than hers. She pretends she isn't aware, but she's heard him talking – mentions of Illinois, "do you think you'll ever come back over here", and "yeah it was great to see you too, Carley!"

She wishes she had his confidence; the easy breezing spirit of someone open and unafraid. But maybe she just hasn't found the right time.

It comes around soon enough, although Clementine isn't to know it.

She doesn't stay with Mariana on Friday night. Kate's offered to take the family – her, Mari and Gabe – down to Savannah for the weekend, while Uncle Javier and David stay behind to hash our their differences (read, decipher Javi's finances) and so Clementine meets Lee and AJ at home after the school run and they all go to the park. On the way back, they pass a large Walmart and an Aldi, and Lee thinks nothing of it.

They're only two blocks from home when he has the sudden realisation.

"Fuck!" AJ repeats as Lee pulls the car back around.

This is why, Clementine hastens to point out, AJ gets into trouble at school so often. AJ laughs and repeats it again and Lee spends the remainder of the ride explaining why only adults can use those types of words. The reasoning is not half as funny, thinks Clementine, as Lee's blatant amusement at the entire situation. They pull into Greenes’s Convenience and Shawn, who’s working behind the counter, greets them cheerily.

“Okay, why don’t you grab some bread?” suggests Lee, as he veers off into the dairy aisle. “I’ll get some eggs.”

Clementine nods and takes a basket.

She turns into the next aisle, and there’s Violet. Violet jerks her head – Clementine knows she gasped – and almost drops the packet of carrots that she’s holding.

“Hi,” she breathes.

She's not alone. Beside her is a taller, slender woman with the same ash coloured hair and pointed chin. She’s holding a basket full of groceries and barely spares Clementine a glance as she surveys the shelves.

“My mom,” says Violet, following Clementine's gaze.

Clementine nods. She takes a moment to look Violet over. She’s still wearing her school uniform – the Ericson logo on the pocket of her purple blazer and mirrored on the slackened tie, with a grey knee-length skirt and a rucksack over her shoulder that's bursting with books. She also sports a black eye and a cut on her lip that looks sore and agitated.

"Not the prettiest, is it," says Violet, tugging at the sleeve and quickly adding, "the blazer?”

“I didn't realise you had a uniform,” Clementine tells her. “But... what happened to your face?"

“It’s nothin’.”

“Alright.”

There’s a pregnant pause. Violet’s mom throws a bag of potatoes into her basket and takes the carrots wordlessly out of Violet’s hands.

“I hope everything’s alright, anyway,” Violet tells her. 

“Yeah,” Clementine says. Her stomach curls tight at the thought of the Violet that was ever-present in her dreams, and hopes Louis has kept his word and not said a thing. “And you.”

Violet smiles.

“It’s Brody's birthday next week,” she says. “We’ll probably do somethin', her bein' 18 and all... I think you’ll be invited. She liked you.”

“Sure,” says Clementine. She doesn’t know whether that's true, but at that moment Lee comes around the corner with AJ who’s holding his hand.

“Uh,” says Clementine, “this is Lee – my stepdad. And my little brother, AJ. Lee, this is Violet.”

“How do you do!” he says and instantly goes to shake her hand. Then he turns to her mom, who is staring. “And you are?”

“Lynn,” she says stiffly.

“Nice to meet ya.”

Violet looks away.

“I met her that night at the ski reunion,” Clementine explains. “You know with Louis?”

“Oh, of course,” says Lee. “AJ, don’t do that – "

AJ is reaching up to touch the pins on Violet's jacket.

“That’s so cool,” he says, without looking back.

Violet's mouth twitches into a grin. She leans down, pulling gently at AJ's jacket so that she can more properly see his t-shirt. 

“Is that Science Dog?” she asks.

“Yes! Do you know him?”

“He’s awesome,” says Violet. "Our friend’s little brother has a shirt like this too. Hey, who's signed your cast with ‘ _ go vegan _ '?”

Lynn seems a little perturbed. Her eyes are crossing, and becoming increasingly narrowed, between the three newcomers and Violet crouched on the floor.

“I’ll write somethin’ for you, have you got a pen? Mom?”

“Violet, I don't – we don't have time – "

She's exasperated, maybe unnerved. Violet looks up.

"We haven’t got any onions!”

“Hey!" says Clem. She decides to step in. She doesn't know why, but there's an uneasy sort of tension hanging in the air around them, in between them, as if Clementine and her family are encroaching on something personal. She squeezes AJ’s shoulder. “Why don’t you run along and find the bread," she says, “leave Violet to her shopping?"

"We're very busy," says Lynn.

"Yeah," says Clem.

Another pause. Violet slowly stands up. She brings her fingers gingerly to the cut on her lip and Lynn forces an uncomfortable laugh, batting her hand away.

"Come on," Clementine mumbles.

"See ya," says Lee.

They exchange a subtle but understanding look as they move past up the aisle, and Clementine pretends not to hear Lynn's hisses of reproval behind them.

"Is her face usually all busted up like that?" Lee asks in a whisper.

"No," says Clem, "I don't think so."

She chances a final glimpse over her shoulder.

"It's probably fine," she says, to which Lee makes a noise low in his throat but lets the subject drop.

They finish up and pay Sean for the groceries and are outside loading everything into the car when Violet comes running out by herself.

“Clementine!” she's shouting. “Clem.”

“Violet?”

Clem meets her halfway to the car as Lee gives her an encouraging nod and slams the trunk.

“Speak to Marlon,” she says. “It’ll be a surprise – for Brody – they’ll be doing somethin'.”

“What?”

“He’s Lou’s best friend,” Violet says. “I – sorry – Marlon will probably throw her a party. I know she’d like you there.”

“I’ve only spoken to Brody once.”

“I know,” says Violet. “Louis, he –" She blushes furiously. “Fuck, he thinks you're great, y'know. Said you ran into him and Marlon when they flunked school earlier in the week. Won’t stop talkin' and so everyone wants to meet you, I guess, again.”

“Oh, okay...”

Violet takes a breath. She digs into her pocket and takes out her phone, and brings Marlon's contact details up on the screen.

“Just ask him,” she says, “what he’s doin' for Brody's birthday. He’ll be pleased, I promise. And I – I wanna know you too. I’d like you to be there.”

Clementine doesn’t know what Violet means, what she’s getting at, whether it’s for Brody's sake or Marlon's or Louis’ or fuck even for hers, but she takes his number and ignores the shake in Violet's hand as she holds onto the phone. Then Lynn comes out of the store and lights a cigarette and Clementine decides to ask again.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"Really," says Violet, "it's nothin'. Don't get the wrong idea."

"I just –"

"No, I'm good. I gotta go."

The horn of Lee's car honks in anticipation behind them.

"Your brother's real cute," Violet tells her, in parting as she backs away.

Clementine grins.

"I know," she says.

And she's climbing back into the car.

“What’s happening?” asks Lee.

“Your guess or mine?"

Clementine looks at her phone, then back out of the window at Violet who’s taking two of the four grocery bags from her mom and is beginning to head towards the bus stop at the side of the road. She texts Marlon as instructed, cautiously excited, and the response that comes back is,

_ Hey stranger! Leave it to me. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer, I love Marlon and I'm not sorry.
> 
> If you were wondering, he's definitely listening to _Not Like Us_ by Brantley Gilbert when he and Louis pull up.


	5. Gimme Danger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minnie likes The Clash and The Stooges. Marlon's into his metal and songs about trucks and yeah maybe a little bit of Foreigner although he'd never want to admit it. Louis definitely stays up late into the night listening to Tame Impala, but knows all the words to _I Should Be So Lucky_ by Kylie Minogue. Mariana keeps up with the top 40 and just wants to listen to Harry Styles.
> 
> None of this information has any impact whatsoever on the story, but if anyone was interested I keep a note of random character facts and traits that's updated as I go along, and this is an extract.

Marlon insists she brings a friend. After a long discussion with both boys on her laptop, via Skype, the following Tuesday night, as they're sat in Louis' dorm and Clem's in the dining room, they finally pinpoint a date, time and place. Lee, having sent AJ to bed, wavers around in the background, a book in one hand and glass of wine in the other.

"Are these the guys planning the party?" he asks, as he hovers over Clementine's shoulder.

"God, could I have a little privacy?"

Lee laughs.

"Hi, Mr Everett," says Louis cheerily. "Or is it Professor? Shit – oh, fuck, sorry!"

"I hope you're not flirting!" Lee tells them, with a smirk, and Marlon instantly reels back from the screen and starts gabbling about his girlfriend.

"Get out of here," Clementine tells Lee, with a playful push in the opposite direction. "Why don't you call Carley, something like that?"

"Carley?" Lee repeats. "What would you know?"

"I think she's tryna set you up," Louis tells him from the screen.

"Yeah," Lee says, "me too! Alright, alright, I'm gone."

When all of their chuckles have subsided, and Lee has firmly closed the door behind him, Louis continues.

"Yeah, my dad's kinda pissed," he says, "about last week. But it's okay – school aren't doing anything."

"Not to you," Marlon tells him. "I, on the other hand, am definitely down for detention."

"Three weeks," says Louis.

"Including next weekend."

"How're you gonna get to the party?" Clementine asks.

"Obvious?" says Marlon. "Just gonna bunk again; not lettin' them keep me at weekends."

"Well, you're braver than me," Clementine tells them.

And they bid goodnight, shortly after a ruckus from outside Louis' dorm room door has both boys clambering to their feet.

"Somethin' about Jasper–" Marlon says. "Gotta go."

Clementine can hear Louis in the background, shouting to one of the other boys,

"What d'you mean, it's not a real gun?"

She waves goodbye and quickly shuts her laptop.

Mariana knows more about the party than Clementine does when she sees her in school the following morning. 

And the week passes in little less than a blur. Before Clementine knows it, it's Saturday evening, and she's staring at herself in the mirror.

Something is missing, she thinks, as she assesses her choice of outfit. She looks kinda nice, she supposes, in the white dress with the sunflowers and white socks and plimsoles. She knows Mariana will be in something exciting – probably wearing heels to match, maybe pink or even the red – and Clementine wants to impress. Casual, everyone had told her, and that's what she'd settled for.

But the hat... No. The hat has to go.

"Sorry, Dad," she says, as she hangs it carefully over the wardrobe door. Instead, she fixes a white clip into the side of her hair and inspects the change from every angle.

AJ's voice drifts from the doorway.

"I wanna come with you," he says, and Clementine turns.

He's supposed to be having a bath before bed. Still, he is loitering in the hallway while Lee fills the tub, and has been coming backwards and forwards into Clementine's room for the past hour.

"Oh, yeah?" she says. "What would you do at a party?"

"Well, what would you?"

"You got me." Clementine laughs. "Come here," she says, and drops onto her knees as AJ runs to hug her. She's mindful of his arm. "You're not allowed to wait up for me tonight, huh?" she tells him seriously, tugging at the hair by AJ's ears. "I'm gonna be late, and Mariana's gonna stay over, so I can't have you in bed with me."

AJ tells her, a little proudly, "We're gonna go to the zoo if I stay asleep, next weekend."

"You and Lee?"

"And you," he says.

"Well, you've got some motivation."

"Do firefighters like going to the zoo, Clem?"

"Firefighters know when they have to take their bath," says Lee, suddenly, from the doorway. Clementine looks up. "Come on," he says, "five minutes and you're in."

Clementine squeezes AJ's cheeks, especially because she knows that he hates it, and sure enough he quickly wriggles out of her grip and goes running out of the room.

"Ah, sweetpea, look at you," Lee coos, as she straightens up.

"What?"

"You've gotten so tall."

"Lee, I'm five-three."

"Pretty tall to me."

Clementine can't help but smile. There's a loud clatter then of falling shampoo bottles from the direction of the bathroom and Lee glances towards the door.

“Go on," he says, "off you go. Are you gonna be back in time for church?”

Clementine hugs him on her way out of her room.

"I'll be back before morning," she promises, and for all of five minutes, she really means it. 

She does, at least until she swings by to pick Mariana up. Unfortunately, Mariana climbs into the car with a pack of beers in one hand and a bottle of vodka that Kate’s given to her in the other, and then whatever plan Clementine once had goes out of the window.

"For fuck's sake," she says. "I'm supposed to have  _ one  _ drink!"

"Jesus," Mariana giggles. "Calm down, would ya? It's a birthday, let's have a good time."

Clementine only laughs as they pick up speed.

The evening is humid, very close and muggy as if they're waiting for a storm. Clementine is acutely aware of a similar static that's building inside her, reverberating around her chest and hitching whenever she focuses on it for a little too long. Mariana catches her eye, smiling widely. Her teeth are white and perfect, dazzling against her carmine lipstick. Clementine thinks of music and dancing; of letting her hair down and holding Violet's steady gaze from across the room. She hopes she looks as gorgeous as Mariana in the light of the sunset.

She hopes Minnie doesn't appear to ruin the fantasy.

"Tonight will be golden!" says Mariana, and Clementine reaches across to squeeze at her hand.

At it turns out, Marlon lives in a quaint little farmhouse not too far from the function room. Clem can tell which is his from a mile away, because someone has set fire to one of the garbage bins in the driveway and it's throwing out a significant amount of light, even at dusk. She pulls up into the dirt, keeping a safe distance.

She hears Marlon before she sees him, dressed all in black. He comes hurtling around from the side of the house, shrieking with laughter, after another boy who bolts inside through the front door and slams it after him.

"Fuckin' dick!" Marlon yells.

"Marlon," says Clementine pleasantly, as they cross the yard to meet him.

"Oh, shit!" He looks up. "You really came!"

As if on reflex Marlon goes to hug her, and he smells like fresh sweat and hairspray and something sweeter like hay, and also strongly of beer. The front of his jacket is soaked in it, as is the hand that's still gripping the bottle.

"What's with the bin?" Clementine asks.

"D'you like it? Sophie thought it'd help people find us."

"It smells like manure."

"Well, we ain't in the city," Marlon says. "Come on, come inside. Lou's not here yet but – others are."

He opens the door for both of them, grinning as they slip past. It's barely any cooler inside. There are framed portraits and posters of country artists lining the walls of the hallway from the minute they step in and at the end of the corridor, through the open door, Clementine can see that the sofa in the living room is floral, with matching curtains. 

"I won't lie," Marlon says, "this ain't a fancy party, we just wanna have a good time."

"Fine," says Clem.

"I just want a boy with a bottle opener," says Mariana, "honestly."

"What was your name again?"

"Mariana."

"Alright," says Marlon, "nice to see ya. And welcome back, Clementine. Just dump your stuff wherever, I'll be around. I've gotta find Logan, but chill."

Already there are a couple of dozen people packed into the house – cousins of cousins and someone’s older sister, Marlon's younger sister, who must be 14 at the very most, a twice-removed relative and someone that Mitch had met in the park on the way over; another school friend by the name of Omar and Ruby, Violet and the twins. Clementine is glad she’s got Mariana by her side. Mariana swears that two of the cousins are in Gabe’s class.

They meet Brody on the stairs, as they’re going up to drop off their bags. She’s already had a couple of drinks by the looks of things, but she's happy to see Clementine and directs them to Marlon's bedroom.

"Yeah," she says, "it's the one with the Metallica poster."

Because of course it is.

There's a pile of backpacks and purses on the floor in front of the amp, which is stacked high mainly with CDs and a handful of school books. There's also a photograph of two boys tacked to the wall above it, whom Clementine can only presume are Marlon and Louis when they were much younger. The bedroom, in reality, is pretty similar to how Clementine has imagined it, with everything that Louis has told her. And from what she'd seen of his truck. Marlon's got an electric guitar in the corner, t-shirts heaped on top of the recliner, a couple of empty bottles, a dartboard. They can hear the heavy thrum of music from downstairs in the living room.

"Come on," says Mariana, "I wanna meet everyone, this is weird."

"Wait," says Clem.

She's allowed to be nosy, after all.

But then a large cheer goes up from downstairs, following a loud crash, and Clementine can hear one of the girls shouting,

"I didn't see that step!"

"Oh, yeah, watch the carpet, Darla, it's loose."

Footsteps proceed to come bounding up a moment later, headed for what surely must be the bathroom, and Mariana grabs hold of Clementine's wrist and pulls her back into the party. They’re hurrying down the wooden stairs when a familiar head of hair passes below in the hall. This time, Clementine is close enough to speak.

“Violet?” she shouts. 

She doesn’t know where she’s found the confidence; maybe it’s having Mariana there with her, or maybe the fact that they’ve bumped into each other too many times now.

Violet's face turns towards the stairs.

“God, you made it,” she says. The hazy drawl of her voice spurs Clementine onwards. “I didn’t know if you would.”

“I texted Marlon,” she says, “like you said.”

“That’s good, I’m really glad.”

They meet at the bottom, and it might be the first time that Clementine actually sees Violet smile – really smile – as she looks at her with a quiet sparkle in her eye. The cut on her lip has almost fully healed. She's wearing the same old jacket, a worn Bob Seger t-shirt and cuffed jeans with a pair of dirty white Converse. Static crackles in Clementine's chest. She's half compelled to twirl on the spot so that Violet can say she likes her dress.

“Clem?” prompts Mariana.

Clementine has accidentally knocked Mariana into the space behind her elbow, blocking her from Violet's view. She steps aside quickly, although her heart skips a sudden beat.

“Oh, this is my best friend,” she explains. “Mariana, this is Violet.”

“Hey,” they say together, and then Violet adds, 

“You’re the baseball girl, right?”

“What?”

“How’d you know about Javi?” Clementine asks. 

“Louis told me.”

“Oh.”

“I suppose,” says Mariana, with a laugh. “Where am I supposed to put my drinks?”

“Oh, Marlon's made some sorta... mixture in the fishbowl in the kitchen,” Violet says. “There are cups in there, a couple of beers. I’d take it easy on whatever isn’t labelled, though.”

“Right,” says Mariana and then she’s off. “I’m sorry, Violet, we’ll talk more later!”

“I’ll see you a bit,” Clem says, and smiles as she makes to follow her friend. 

“Hey...”

Violet lunges, quickly but gently enough that she only catches the tips of Clementine’s fingers, and lingers there for a moment.

“Uh,” she says, “you look nice tonight, y’know.”

“Thanks,” says Clementine.

She doesn’t get a chance to say anything else as then Violet takes flight as well, grinning a little shyly as she pulls away and instantly heads for the door. By the time Clementine makes it into the kitchen, Mariana has already poured them two large cups of whatever’s in the fishbowl. 

It’ll be a long evening, Clementine thinks, as she takes a swig and instantly gags.

"I still wanna know which of these guys is the one for you!" says Mariana excitedly, as she looks around. "I hope it isn't that dude–"

"Shush!" Clementine tells her. "No, it is not!"

"Are they definitely coming?"

"They are," says Clem. "It doesn't mean I'll tell you who."

Thankfully, their conversation is derailed by Louis, who has finally arrived when they squeeze back into the living room. He seems to know everyone and still has a bag of cider swinging from his arm. He hugs Clementine, practically lifting her off the floor in his enthusiasm and kisses Mariana on the cheek, which sends her reeling into a fit of giggles. 

“Have you seen Brody yet?” he asks. “I’ve got her present here.”

Louis pulls a neatly wrapped small square package out of his coat pocket and gives it a rattle.

“She was on her way downstairs when we got here–" Clementine begins, but then there are more shouts and screams and suddenly there Brody is, being carried through to the living room on the shoulders of two boys and followed by Marlon, solo cup in hand, still laughing.

That’s when the games really kick off. Louis brings out the cards and there’s a game of  _ Truth or Dare _ , and  _ Ring of Fire _ – difficult, because so many kids are having their own conversations and the running order gets mixed up, and suddenly Ruby’s had three turns in a row and is shouting that Sophie needs to play her damn card. 

Clementine is handed drink after drink. She loses count – definitely more than the legal limit to drive – but she finds that she doesn’t mind. Before she knows it she’s leaning heavily against Mariana's side and laughing for no reason. 

Mariana and Louis get on so well, she thinks, not for the first time, as she listens to their conversation and tries to keep up with who was supposed to draw before her. At some point earlier it was Marlon, but he’s disappeared into the crowd and now his little sister – Marlene – is in his place on the floor instead.

Minnie and Violet have come back into the room.

“Lou,” Minnie shouts, “where’s the bottle opener?”

“I don’t have it!” he tells her.

Clementine hasn’t seen it for ages; presumes it’s lost in the mass of bodies and empty bottles.

She’s done a good job at keeping out of Minnie’s way, although unfortunately that also means out of Violet's. But now Minnie grumbles inaudibly and turns back out of the room, and Violet proceeds into the mess of cards on the floor and takes a key from the girl Darla who’d fallen up the stairs and cracks her beer bottle open that way.

“What are you playin'?”

“ _ Ring of Fire _ , supposedly,” says Louis, gesturing to the pint glass in the middle of the cards that’s only half full. “I don’t think anyone’s paying attention.”

“We should have our own game,” says Violet. “Move up, Mar, let me sit down.”

Marlene shuffles back, and Violet slides neatly into the space between her and another guy, who Louis knows as Ben.

“Come on, Louis,” she says, “do the honours.”

“Alright, what do you want?"

“I dunno, you’re good at games.”

“I always liked  _ Never Have I Ever _ ,” says Mariana.

"Yes!”

“Alright, alright,” says Louis. He stands up. “Does anyone,” he shouts above the din, “wanna play  _ Never Have I Ever _ ?”

Not everyone is listening, but there’s a chorus of yeses from the closest people and in a matter of minutes everyone has jumbled themselves around to join their throng and others have moved out of the way. When Louis sits back down, cross-legged, Mariana slides her arm so that it’s rested over his folded knees. It’s a casual movement – almost accidental – but Clementine catches her eye and Mariana smirks.

“You start,” he tells Violet.

“Shit, come on.”

“Vi!”

“I’ll start,” Clementine offers. She takes a swig of her drink first of all, and then says, “Never have I ever... owned designer sliders.”

She grins at Louis, who pulls a face.

“That’s not fair,” he says and takes a drink. 

Mariana drinks too, as do Darla and her friend on the other side of the circle.

Then it’s Marlene. “I’ve never ridden a pony.”

Clementine drinks. 

“I’ve never been camping,” says Violet.

Clementine drinks again. She’d taken a trip with Kenny and Duck and Katjaa, when she was a lot younger, down to Volusia County and stayed in a tent out near Lake Monroe. They’d been on the hiking trails, and she and Duck had chased each other through the bushes, and Clementine had come home covered in a nasty rash from the poison ivy that they'd given no thought to at the time.

“You’re all so PG,” Brody giggles.

She’s appeared behind them, with another drink, and Marlon's just arriving as everyone turns around.

“Oh, okay,” says Violet, “come up with somethin' better."

"Oh, please."

"We’re looking after  _ your _ sister, man!” says Louis.

"I don't need babysittin'!"

“Watch, she's vicious," Marlon tells them, and pivots himself over the back of the sofa. "Who's coat is this? Yeah, I'm just gonna move it." He lands with a heavy thud and Marlene makes a disgruntled noise. Brody clambers over a little less effortlessly.

"Wait, damn, I've lost my drink!–"

"Here!" says Ruby.

"Great!"

"Can everyone be quiet?"

“Never have I ever,” says Marlon into the racket, “been caught shopliftin'.”

“That was one time!” Marlene shouts.

“Mom had to pick you up from the cops. She was cryin’, like absolutely distraught – ' _ don't tell Dad, don’t tell Dad _ !'”

“How old were you?” asks Violet.

And Mariana chokes through a laugh, “How old  _ are _ you?”

“14,” says Marlene.

“It was two months ago,” Marlon says. “She’s been threatened with Ericson’s so many times, I tell ya.”

“One of us,” chants Louis.

And then they quickly move on.

“Never have I ever given a lap dance,” says Brody.

With the change in tone, they all look around at each other expectantly. One of the other girls drinks and another snorts into her cup and hides her face. It really dissolves after that, several people having to ask for beers to be passed from the kitchen. Ruby, as it turns out, has gone streaking and Mariana reluctantly admits to sending risqué photos (to who she refuses to say), and Brody and Marlon drink together when Marlene fires another loaded question towards her brother.

“And why don’t I know about this?” Louis cries, as Ruby is cackling with laughter and leans to high five Brody. 

“Man,” says Marlon, “come on.”

“It’s just easy when you’ve got a car,” Brody says smugly. “Like... come on, Clementine you drive right?”

“Yeah but I’ve never done that!” she says laughing. 

“Boring.”

“You could rent it to Louis. He and your friend seem kinda close.”

“Fuck off!” Louis says.

Clementine laughs almost as much as he blushes, but she doesn’t miss the fact that he’s also now holding Mariana's hand, in the same place over the crook of his knee.

“I’ve never kissed a guy,” says Violet then, because by now fuck whoever’s turn it is, and most of the girls (and Aaron, one of the cousins who’s joined their group) have to take a drink.

“Who was your first?” asks Ruby. “Mine was Abraham, in 7th Grade.”

"One of my brother's friends,” says Mariana, "but we were 8 or something and it was at Yaya's 70th and it wasn’t very good.”

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” Clementine says.

“What, for real?”

“No one?"

“She’s just so busy,” Mariana teases. “With her brother and her hockey and her church–"

“Oh, you’re a church girl?” laughs Marlon. “Fuck, what’re you doin' here?”

“I  _ thought _ I was getting drunk!”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I'll need another drink first!”

Clementine sways a little when she stands up and the playful jeers of the group follow her out of the room. In the kitchen, she finds Mitch, who’s smoking next to the open door, and the guy he’d picked up on the way in the darkness outside with a couple of the others. A girl is sitting on the countertop beside the sink drinking a beer, and Minnie is on the stool beside the island in the middle of the room with an acoustic guitar.

Clementine reaches past her and opts for another mystery drink from the fishbowl.

“Is Violet with you?” Minnie asks. She doesn’t stop playing. It takes a moment before Clementine recognises the tune.

“Uh yeah, she’s in the living room.”

“Okay.”

Clementine glances over the guitar – a little beaten, and with a faded sticker of a smiley face above the soundhole and then looks up to Minnie, who’s staring back. Clem knows she’s a little drunk; her face is warm and she’s probably got some daft grin on her face, and she’d have hightailed it out of the room by now if she wasn’t. 

“Is that The Stooges?” she asks.

“What?”

“ _ Gimme Danger _ ?”

“Oh...” Minnie stops playing. “What’d you know about The Stooges?”

Clementine shrugs. “I like that sorta thing."

She expects Minnie to scoff; instead, she takes a swig of beer and slowly resumes her playing. Mitch laughs from the doorway, and there’s a loud shout from the hallway and Clementine stands for only a couple more seconds before taking her leave. 

The rest of the evening passes in somewhat of a blur. When Clementine comes back into the living room, Sophie is sprawled over Violet's lap with arms wrapped tightly around her waist. She’s kicked over the pint glass in the middle of the room and there’s alcohol all over the floor; Brody is howling with laughter and Ben is shouting that his socks are soaked through. Clementine loses Mariana, and Louis for that matter, and ends up instead in a violent game of Slapsies with Darla and a group of other people she doesn’t know, whilst Violet hangs over her shoulder and eggs her on.

Omar has the bright idea of playing  _ Suck and Blow _ . Chaos understandably ensures, especially for Clementine who spends a couple of rounds just trying to catch up on the rules. There is screaming, hollering, several loud displays of sheer repulsion. Above all, there's a whole lot of kissing and then suddenly one of the cousins comes barrelling into the room in nothing except her underwear.

One or two others are getting handsy on the sofa.

"What the fuck is going on?" Clementine shouts to Violet, who's laughing as she spills beer down the front of her jacket.

"It's a party," she says, with a grin as if that explains it all. "You wanna do shots with me?"

"Shots?" Mitch repeats. He appears suddenly from behind them, stinking of cigarettes. "Hey, Marlon's parents got some tequila, you know? In the cupboard by the sink."

Clementine quickly learns that she doesn't enjoy tequila.

Mitch leads the way through the mass of bodies, back towards the kitchen that Clementine feels she'll soon be able to locate with her eyes shut. A gaggle of girls surround their crying friend on the staircase and they pass Marlon in the hallway, who by now is shouting after one of the guys while Marlene drags furiously at his arm to hold him back.

"–come near my fuckin' sister, be the last thing you do!"

"Marlon, he didn't – "

"You know how old that guy is, huh?"

"We were _ talkin'  _ – "

"Leave her, Marlon!" another girl shouts.

"Fuck, just get upstairs. This is why you're never invited."

A cousin rushes forward to calm him down and Clementine grabs the sleeve of Violet's jacket so that she doesn't get left behind. Someone has already done them curtesy of pulling the tequila out of the cupboard, and Mitch slops it over the side of three clean shot glasses as soon as he's taken a pull from the bottle. Clementine can't be sure, but she's almost certain that she agrees to have another. The taste is repulsive, and yet...

Violet drags her back to join the party.

Someone's found Minnie's guitar. They've bought it triumphantly into the living room and have started up a singalong of  _ Sweet Caroline _ . Sophie huffs and groans and complains until they've got her standing on the arm of the sofa and leading the tune. Brody, in her bare feet, spins on the coffee table, sloshing beer over the rim of the bottle until one of the guys holds up a glass for her across the room and she goes bounding over to meet him.

It’s so warm that they have to open the windows. Clementine has sweat gathering beneath her hair at the nape of her neck by the time they’ve finished dancing, and she downs another bottle of beer and collapses onto the sofa, dragging Violet with her. 

"Man, you’re really pale,” Violet says. “Are you okay?”

Clementine has definitely had more than the one drink she’d promised. The room is spinning but she feels so easy; so good and giddy and Violet is so close. Her arm is pressed against Clementine’s and she’s laughing, and she’s looking at Clementine like they’ve known each other for years, friendly and warm, and Clementine wants to lean in further. She almost does – is seconds away from brushing the hair out of Violet's eyes – from wiping the sheen of chapstick away from her upper lip. But as Clementine rolls forward, her stomach lurches, and she knows she needs to get out of the room.

"Oh –" she says, pulling herself up, "I just – I’m gonna get some air."

She almost topples over the coffee table on her way across the room. Ruby wails with laughter at that, as does Clementine, and Violet’s giggles seem to be floating on the air until she’s there by Clementine’s side again and picking her up off the floor.

“Come on,” she says, sliding her arm beneath Clementine’s. “I’ll walk you."

Minnie is leaning against the doorframe in the hallway.

“Vi,” she prompts seriously, as they pass.

“Not now, Minnie,” Violet tells her.

And they push past, into the hallway, into the yard.

Clementine hardly makes it to the edge of the gravel before she’s puking violently, and Violet scoops her hair up and rubs her back as she titters.

“I don’t think I’m going home,” Clementine explains, with a meek laugh at her misfortune. “Lee’s gonna kill me.”

She straightens up, wiping her mouth, and staggers to sit on the low wall that runs around the perimeter of the yard.

“You don’t drink much, huh?”

“I'm a church girl, remember?”

“Ya, it’s been a long time since I went to church,” Violet says. 

Louis and Mariana appear then, from around the front of the house. Mariana is clutching Louis’ hand tightly. They look like they’ve been together all evening and even though her eyes are swimming, even in the dim light, Clementine can still see the scarlet lipstick print pressed against Louis' cheek.

“Damn,” he says, “are you alright?”

"We’ve just been looking for you,” says Mariana. She takes a tissue out of her purse and hands it to Clementine, who dabs at the tears that are rolling down her face and grimaces. “Have you been sick?”

“I don’t think I can drive us home tonight, Mari,” she says. 

“I can put her to bed,” Violet suggests, looking to Louis. “Marlon said he was happy for–“

“No, I don’t wanna go to sleep.”

“Oh, man, I hope you didn’t drink too much of the mystery mix...” Louis laughs. “In the kitchen? Marlon’s put like six different spirits in there.”

But Clementine is hardly listening. She looks back up with a lopsided smile at Violet, and although she can hear herself talking, dammit, Clementine can't stop.

“I wanna stay with you,” she says. To steady herself she brings her hand up to the lapel of Violet’s jacket, next to her rainbow pin, and takes hold. "I’m – fuck, I’m drunk you know but – we're having fun, aren't we?"

"Sure," Violet tells her.

“Mari,” Clementine says again, turning back, “I’m sorry we can’t go home.”

But her friend has a strange sort of look on her face, as if she’s processing something deeply. Her eyes flicker over Clementine’s fingers on Violet’s jacket, and Violet’s arm around her waist, and then a small, sly smile creeps onto Mariana's face.

“ _ Oh _ ,” she says softly, as if she’s realised something very significant.

“Are you mad?” Clementine asks.

“No," says Mariana, "no, not at all, it's just – is this –"

"We're around if you need us," Louis says quickly. He tugs at Mariana's hand. "Hey, come on."

"Do you know something about this?" she hisses.

Louis still manages to drag her away, although Mariana casts another quick glance over her shoulder as they go.

"Okay?" Violet asks. "Let's just... go upstairs. We don't have to go to sleep."

"Yeah," says Clem, "alright."

Violet takes hold of Clementine's arm again and pulls her up from the wall. They stumble back through the house, up the stairs and into another bedroom and Violet shuts the door behind them.

“Sit down, don’t move,” she says as she lowers Clementine onto the bed. “I’ll get you some water.”

She returns after a moment with a large glass and Clementine takes a gulp before placing it shakily on the bedside table.

“Where are we?” she asks.

“This is his parent's room,” Violet tells her. “So like... try not to vomit again, alright? I mean you’re fine... They know people are stayin'.”

“Thanks,” says Clem. 

She lets herself fall back into the sheets and drags her arm over her eyes. Her stomach is rolling.

“I'm sorry I’m a mess.”

“No,” says Violet, with a soft laugh. “You’re good, I – I’ve been worse.”

“Worse?”

“Ya." She begins to pull at Clementine's laces to remove her shoes. “Once Minnie and I brought three bottles of vodka back to school. Sophie told us we were fuckin' stupid but we still drank most of it and I tried to jump from the bell tower. Nothin’ serious, y’know, just figured I knew how to fly.”

“What happened?"

“Passed out as soon as I’d climbed the stairs,” says Violet. “I had my stomach pumped and... well, that's all."

“Does it hurt?” Clem asks.

She glances at Violet from the space beneath her arm.

The other girl looks Clementine up and down as she places her shoes on the floor; then, grins suddenly, and pinches Clementine's socked foot.

“Does this?”

Clementine writhes and jerks her foot back. 

“It tickles!” she says, and feels her stomach slosh at the movement. Again, she thinks of Lee, and then of Kenny, who’ll be waiting for her at church in the morning. “Oh," she groans, "where’s my phone?”

“I’ll bring it to you,” Violet tells her. “Is it with your bag? I’ll find it.” 

“Uhuh.”

And whether Violet does find her phone, Clementine isn’t sure. She shuts her eyes for maybe a moment, and then there’s nothing. She wakes up a couple of hours later, mouth dry as sand, just as the first of the morning light is leeching through the gap in the curtains. Her bag is on the floor beside her shoes.

It must only be very early morning, nowhere near time to get up, and Clementine is glad because she's not entirely sure that she'd be any safer driving now than at whatever time she'd fallen asleep. Her head throbs in a way that she’s never quite felt before and is worsened only by, in the room next door, the steady thud of the bedpost against the wall. It takes Clem a moment to realise what that sound is, but slowly she comes around enough to recognise that it isn’t only in her head.

Beside her, Mariana is fast asleep. She hasn’t taken her makeup off and Louis’ arm is curled around her waist. On the floor, somewhere just out of Clementine's vision at the end of the bed, someone is snoring softly. The linen smells like baby powder.

She wishes she hadn't agreed to go to church.

She hopes that Kenny will forget it's Sunday and that she won't have to face him, to explain why she smells of and is sweating alcohol out of every pore.

Even the air in the room smells sour, Clementine thinks, as she pulls herself up and sits swaying on the edge of the bed. It takes a further ten minutes until she can convince herself to get up to look for painkillers. Nothing in the bathroom; only the spilt remains of a bottle of beer and sodden towels on the floor. Luckily, the rest of the house seems still and Clementine quietly makes her way downstairs.

There are more bodies packed into the living room covering the expanse of the floor, when Clementine peaks in, and Violet – of course – passed out on the sofa with an empty cup on the floor beside her outstretched arm. There’s still a light on in the kitchen, and so Clementine heads there, thinking whoever’s still up might know Marlon's house a little better than she does. That idea quickly goes out of the window when she sees just who is sitting beside the island again, smoking a cigarette. 

Clementine tucks her chin down and hopes for the best. 

“Are you happy?” Minnie asks, as she passes.

"I’m just looking for painkillers," says Clementine.

She’s really trying not to pay attention to anything except the pounding in her head and the search to relieve it. She opens another cupboard – only glasses – and turns to the box of tablets in a basket beside the sink instead.

Minnie chuckles, a little coolly.

“Fuck,” she says. “Get a beer. Sit down.”

Clementine glances over her shoulder.

“I’d rather get back to bed.”

“No,” Minnie tells her. She reaches for one of the few remaining bottles and cracks it open on the edge of the counter, placing it in the empty space in front of her. “You got the guts to show up here, now you sit down, you talk.”

Clementine has the unpleasant feeling that Minnie hasn’t been to sleep. She’s definitely drunk, if the slur in her speech is anything to go by. Clementine manages to unearth a couple of painkillers and, although the back of her neck is prickling, goes over to the kitchen counter and swallows them with the beer. Her stomach flips but she managed to keep everything down.

“I don’t want trouble,” she says.

She feels she’ll get it either way.

Minnie stubs her cigarette out in the ashtray, one of the 1970s ceramic ones with acrylic olives and Italian landscape painted over the face, and Clementine sits gingerly down.

“You like her,” Minnie challenges. “You fuckin’ like her, and she likes you – I can see it.”

“What’d you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Minnie tells her, and raises her voice as if she needs to spell it out. “Violet,” she says. “You’re all anyone fuckin’ talks about, and I’m sick of it. It  _ makes _ me sick.”

“I hardly know her,” says Clementine, "or anyone." She can feel the plea in her voice; the thud against her temples. "Honestly I don't know what you think–"

"God, shut up," says Minnie. "You’ve captured Louis’ heart, haven’t you! And Marlon's, and Brody's, and now – shit – you think you can come here and have Violet's too? No, that's not how it works–"

"What–"

"You're not one of us!"

“Minnie?”

Clementine's head jerks to the doorway, but Minnie barely glances. Violet is standing in the doorway rubbing her eyes. Her hair is stuck up on one side where she’s lay.

“What’s going on?”

“Gimme a break,” Minnie mumbles.

“We’re talking...” says Clementine weakly.

Violet slowly crosses the room, to stand behind Minnie, and wraps her arms around her waist. Her chin comes to rest on Minnie’s shoulder. Clementine can see the stiffening of Minnie’s jaw and the way her grip tightens on the beer bottle; she thinks it'll crack beneath Minnie's palm before she softens to the touch.

“Why don’t you come to bed?” Violet suggests.

She twists her head so that she can press a kiss to Minnie’s neck, but Minnie flinches out of her reach and pulls away, quickly standing from the stool.

“Fuck both of you,” she spits and stalks out of the kitchen.

The room presses in on Clementine. She can feel her breath hanging stagnant in the air before her. If she stands for much longer she thinks she might collapse.

“I don’t know what I’ve done,” she whispers.

“No,” says Violet, “no, you won’t have done anythin'."

She braces herself against the stool, closing her eyes for a moment. Clementine grasps the edge of the counter as she feels herself sway. Then, a sudden loud crash from the hallway. Violet's eyes fly open as she whirls around.

“ _ Minnie! _ ” she shouts.

In an instant, Violet's out of the room.

“This isn’t your house!”

Clementine lasts only another couple of seconds before she’s running back to the sink to empty her stomach. She washes the bile down with water, and waits for another ten minutes before she sneaks back upstairs. She tries to pretend she can’t hear Minnie’s near-hysterical shouting from the living room, and avoids Sophie’s eye when she pops her head out of one of the adjoining rooms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate far Minnie less than I'm letting on. Sorry girl. And about Marlene? I couldn't help myself.


	6. My Father's House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've all been here before.

“I’ve fucked up, I think,” says Clementine on Sunday night, into the phone, and Louis  _ hmms _ from the other side.

She's curled into the corner of her bed, with the curtains drawn and the lamp and fairy lights on overhead. Her headache has been fading in and out for the most part of the day and although it seems to be alleviating now, Clementine still feels rather rotten. Her limbs are aching and no amount of ginger tea seems likely to settle the nausea in her stomach, nor for that matter the tension.  **** Clementine doesn't know whether it's normal, whether the comedown she's feeling is always a consequence of drinking, but since she woke up Clem has had the unshakable suspicion that she's done something wrong and it's difficult to pinpoint exactly what that is.

"You shouldn't worry," says Louis, who this morning had shaken her awake her a plateful of eggs on toast and snorted as Clementine's grimaced at the sight. "Brody had a brilliant time, really enjoyed herself, you know."

"Yeah," says Clem, "just... there's more."

"Go on," says Louis.

The shift in weather can't have helped. The air is still very close, but today it feels oppressive. Clementine stares up at the curtains, trying to correlate her thoughts as the fabric slowly rises and falls against the open window. Today she's watched the sky turn from blue to grey to a deep, steely lead and now she can hear the branches of the trees in the garden tapping against the fence panels as a breeze stirs to life. Gone is the sunshine and dowsed is the buzz of excitement that Clementine had felt only yesterday evening.

Lee has been amicable, nevertheless, and really it's difficult to imagine him reacting in any other way. Clementine has only known him to shout once or twice in the time that she's lived here and his anger has never been directed towards her, but the thought that she's disappointed him stings in a different way. Clementine is also scared to think of Uncle Kenny's reaction if she ever has the guts to tell him, or else it gets back in some other type of way, the reasons exactly for her mysterious disappearance.

And as for the Ericson kids, Clementine doubts that she'll ever be welcome at another of their parties.

"Hey," says Louis gently, and Clementine realises she's been quiet for a while, "what's wrong?"

He sounds so sincere that she almost chokes on her tears.

"I'm sorry," Clem says, "this is stupid – no, don't say anything – I know! I can't imagine how embarrassed – like – fuck, I didn't mean to drink so much! I was having fun, it just sorta happened."

”Are you crying?" asks Louis. "Come on, don't be like that – Clementine –"

"No," she says, and wipes her face. "No, I'm fine."

She pulls herself together; takes a deep breath; looks at the curtains.

Louis' voice is soft in her ear.

"If you think you've embarrassed yourself... by drinking... in front of us lot..."

Almost he laughs.

"Clementine," he says, "you shoulda seen  _ Marlon's _ 18th. We’ve all done it before.”

“It’s different,” says Clem. “I've never done it before. I can't believe I didn't make it to church."

"Sssh, relax. Are you even that religious?"

"I mean, no – a little – I don't know."

It's never a question she's had to ask. Church on Sundays has been a staple in Clementine's life in the same way that staying at Mariana's on a Friday night has been, for as long as she can remember.

"But it's traditional, isn't it? I can count on one hand the times I've missed before."

"So no sweat," says Louis. "They forgive that sort of thing, right?"

"Well, yeah," Clementine says. She knows he doesn't get it and knows she can't explain either. But Clementine takes another breath and she forces a laugh because of course Louis is trying, and she wipes the last of her tears so that they've stopped almost as quickly as they'd started. "I'm worried I've disappointed everyone," she says, "because __ of everything that happened."

She doesn't want to be hated for a night she doesn't remember.

Louis chuckles softly on the other end of the line.

"Is Professor Everett not so cool after all?" he jokes.

"Lee's fine," says Clem, "but my Uncle Kenny... He's more strict. You'd understand if you met him. And he wants what’s best for me, I know he does, I just think I’ll have let him down. And then there's Violet – shit, Violet.”

“Yeah,” says Louis slowly.

"I don't know what happened. I know we hung out and stuff but, I mean, Minnie was so angry."

"She can get like that," says Louis.

His voice sounds suddenly very distant, as if he's holding back, and then with an audible breath after a beat, he says,

"Okay, let me just ask upfront. And don't be offended 'cause I think I know... And someone would've said something, but..."

"Lou."

“Did anything happen – with you and Violet? Anything at all."

"What?" Clementine asks.

"Like–"

"No," she says quickly. She's sure, if anything, of that alone. "We just drank and danced and – I mean I think I kissed Brody by accident in that stupid card game, but – no –"

"It's – yeah," says Louis.

There's a silence between them for a moment. Then he laughs again.

"Do you think I've overstepped?" Clementine suggests.

"By doing what?"

“I... dunno, being there.”

“Fuck that.” There's a brief rustling as Louis stretches out on the other side of the phone. “Look, I’m not great at family stuff," he says, "and I can't imagine I've been very helpful so far. But, Violet and Minnie – it's not my place to tell you, Clem – but I guess it's been coming for a while."

"What'd you mean?"

"Just..." Louis says, "you haven't done anything wrong."

Clementine sighs. She knows better than to push a subject that's out of bounds. She stands up, moving to close the window, unsure if she feels any better and asks instead,

"So did Marlon fix the sideboard?"

Louis hums. "Nah," he says, "but his dad's good at things like that. It's mendable, at least."

Then there’s a knock on Clementine's door. 

“Hang on.”

Lee is waiting patiently on the other side, a cup of tea proffered as a peace offering in his left hand and a sandwich with a candy bar on a plate in the right.

“Hey, sweetpea,” he says, “do you have five minutes?”

“I gotta go,” Clementine says back into the phone and waves Lee inside. She hopes her eyes aren't red, because Lee will notice for sure.

“Yeah,” says Louis.

"Tell Violet I'm sorry, won't you? For whatever it was."

There’s a pause. “I’ll tell her,” says Louis. “See you later.”

“Thanks, I owe you one.”

"Yeah, you do. Cheer up!"

Clementine shuts the bedroom door and turns back into the room. Lee is sitting carefully down on the edge of the bed and has placed the cup of tea on Clementine's bedside table, beside the photograph of her parents and slides the plate next to it. Clementine catches sight of herself in the mirror. Her hair is matted together on one side, there are dark bags beneath her eyes and there's a stain on her t-shirt from where she'd split Coca Cola on herself earlier. On top of all of this, her collar is damp with the earlier tears.

"Do hangovers always feel like this?" she asks.

Lee's lips quirk gently at the sides.

"Just I feel kinda tragic."

"Yeah," he says, "that's a part of it... Come here, sit down."

Lee pats the space beside him and Clementine goes dutifully over.

"So," he says, "did you enjoy yourself last night?"

"Are you angry?" Clementine asks.

"Hey," says Lee, "who said anythin' about angry?"

He'd still been at church when Clementine had stumbled through the front door in the early afternoon, to the empty house and empty fridge, and although she'd ventured back downstairs when Lee had arrived home with the groceries, in truth Clementine has been hiding for the rest of the day. If only to avoid this conversation.

Lee continues. "A little worried, sure," he says, "but not for too long."

Clementine glances up.

"You're a good kid," he says, "but going to a party like that, I kinda expected you wouldn't be home as promised."

"Sorry–" Clementine begins.

"You should be glad you have a friend like Mariana," Lee tells her. "She's the reason why, when I woke up this morning, I didn't call to register a missing kid."

He hands Clementine his phone, to show her a rather jumbled text message that Mariana had sent to him at 3am the same morning. Read, 7:37am. It seems to suggest that by the early hours, Clementine had already passed out in the parents' bedroom, and although she's mortified – and distressed by the entire situation – Clementine still feels a grin creep onto her face to match Lee's. He pokes her in the ribs and she wriggles away.

"I'm so sorry," she says. "I meant to text, I did –"

"We've all done it," says Lee, in an echo of Louis. "But, next time? Make sure you let me know you're alright."

Clementine says that she will.

Lee hands her the plate with the sandwich.

"Now eat up," he says. "That's all I've gotta say. Did you tell them what you've been up to?"

He nods in the direction of the photograph.

Clementine chuckles. "You know I did."

"Sure," says Lee. "And do you wanna share – you and this Louis boy?"

"Oh," says Clementine, "not you as well."

Lee holds up his hands. "I'm only asking!" he says. "You sure do talk a lot."

"Yeah," Clementine tells him, "because he's my friend. Anyway..." She shrugs. "He likes Mariana, and she likes him too."

"And what about you?"

"There's someone else," says Clementine.

She's smiling, but when she looks back into the faces of her parents – her dad with his big, saccharine grin and her mom, with the golden cross steadfast around her neck – Clementine quickly begins to feel it slide.

"Lee," she says quietly, "do you think there really is a Hell?"

“What?” he asks. “Clem, what've you done?”

“Nothing,” she says, and feels a blush spread across her whole face; feels it down her neck too. She doesn’t know how to explain. “It’s just, Gabe had kept asking me to go out with him, you know – like a date?”

“Yeah.”

“And it’s not him. And he knows that but now there’s this other person and...”

"Oh sweetpea,” Lee sighs, sounding almost relieved, “you’re not going to Hell for not liking a boy. What’s this about?”

“Not a... boy,” Clem says, screwing up her face.

“Then who?”

She can't believe she's about to confess. Clementine feels the nerves vibrating through every part of her, in her chest and in her fingers where she holds the plate on her lap. Her head is starting to hurt again. She takes a moment, putting the sandwich gingerly down beside her and stares at her feet.

“You know that girl,” Clementine explains with difficulty, “in the store with her mom the other week?"

"The one who invited you to the party?"

"Sorta," says Clem. "It's complicated, I don't know what to think. I just – there's something about her – like, she makes me feel funny, in a good way." It's strange to voice her bizzaro thoughts out loud. Lee nudges her in the arm, and Clementine keeps going. "We had so much fun last night. It was amazing, just hanging out and being together, I guess. But I know it's different. I don't wanna be her friend _ , _ I want –"

Clementine's words catch in her throat.

"Fuck."

She still isn't sure. All Clementine really needs is for someone to give her a hug and tell her that it's fine; someone with a little more authority and respect for the rules, perhaps, than Louis. But she can’t bring herself to look Lee in the eye. Clementine feels so damn stupid, although the soft laugh that rumbles from Lee's chest is an indicator that maybe he understands.

Lee puts his arm around her shoulders, ruffling Clementine's hair as if she's a child again, and Clementine turns instinctively into his side.

“I don’t think any God of mine would hold it against you,” says Lee. “And you’ve got time to work everything out.”

"It’s not that I don’t like boys,” Clem tells him. “Just... not...”

Exclusively?

“You can like whoever you want to, honey," Lee says with finality. "Uh, you know, within reason. Wouldn't recommend any axe murderers or bailiffs, though – not if you want us all to get along."

Clementine forces a laugh, going quiet, and then Lee asks,

"Clem, does this girl like you too?"

Clementine feels the wave of guilt slosh in her stomach again. 

"She's got a girlfriend," she explains softly.

"Ah, that might complicate things."

"Yeah," says Clem. "I – Minnie, she's called – think I upset her last night, but I don't know why. I didn't try to get in between them."

"Sometimes," Lee says, "love is a lot of hard work. But you know how these things happen. You have to meet at the beginning, and if there isn't a conflict there isn't a story. But everythin' works out alright in the very end." He gives Clementine one final squeeze and kisses the top of her head. "For now," he says, "let's just eat your dinner, and take a shower."

Clementine nods. Lee nudges her chin gently with his fist.

"Are you gonna be okay?"

"Are we gonna tell Uncle Kenny?" Clementine asks, as he stands from the bed. "About the party, I mean."

"I've already told him," says Lee. "And, uh, he said it was good of you, to stay with Mari whilst she was ill. If you know what I mean."

Clementine smiles timidly. "Thanks," she says.

She hadn't expected Lee to lie for her, but man, she's grateful. He isn't disappointed, and they're both okay, and Clementine loves him a lot. Maybe her story will work out just fine.

"I'll be downstairs," says Lee, with a nod, "if you need me."

And the door closes behind him.

Outside the wind rattles the tree branches harder against the panelled fencing, but Clementine slips into bed and the sounds dissolve into nothingness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was forced out of the closet at age 13, because my mum worked at my high school and word spread pretty quickly that I was dating a girl. She asked me a lot of awkward questions in the car on the way home, but never for an explanation, much like the above. Thanks, Ma, for your never-ending support.
> 
> Also, as ever, hope you're all keeping safe in these strange times - my family, friends and I are all ticking along and making the best of a bad situation.


	7. Tomorrow Never Knows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, if I thought I struggled with Chapter 4, it was nothing in comparison to this. I rewrote Chapter 7 in its entirety a total of four times. But here we are!

Clementine’s final hockey match of the season falls on the Thursday of the following week. Louis texts her a good luck message, as Clementine is finishing school, supposedly from all their friends at Ericson although he says he doubts Clementine will really need it.

"I'm sorry I can't be there," says Mariana, as she hugs Clementine goodbye. "They're expecting a win, you know, so your name can replace Uncle Javi in the list of famous sports players."

"Is that right?" says Clementine. "I'll keep it in mind."

The air in the locker room is no cooler than out on the pitch. It's warm and damp, and Clementine can feel the sweat begin to gather on her shins from the moment she pulls up her socks.

"Okay," says Laura, as she climbs onto one of the benches, "so I'm gonna start like any decent team captain, and give you all a pep talk."

Their rival team at Jefferson High are supposedly a formidable challenge. The coach also comes in to bark instructions about playing a clean game, about halfway through, because she says it's just too easy to be tempted by the devil and a lot of the girls snigger. Clementine readjusts her mouthpiece.

"Come on," says Laura, "let's show 'em what we're made of."

And Clementine and the rest of girls go trooping out onto the pitch. It's difficult not to gawk, when Clementine looks up into the stands and sees so many faces – familiar and unfamiliar – staring back at her. There’s a school banner flying high in the sky, blue and gold against the dreary grey that hasn’t seemed to shift since Sunday evening.

"Do you have anyone here?" whispers Jessica, as she takes her usual place in the front of the pitch.

Clementine nods her head.

"Relatives," she says, "what about you?"

"Boyfriend," Jessica tells her, and then, "God, look at these girls! They're built like tanks."

Clementine grimaces as the other team make their way out.

“It’s supposed to be about technique,” she says.

And indeed it really is. The Jefferson girls play rough, and it’s a tough match, but by the time half-time ticks around the crowd are wild as the schools are drawing with even points. Their goalkeeper has been hit in the face and has blood pouring from a gash in her lip, but Clementine stays optimistic. From above comes a rumble of thunder. Although everyone is covered in mud from where the pitch is still soft, Laura says that they’ve trained for months and if their keeper can take a blow and still manage to save the puck from reaching the back of the net, they should be in for a strong win.

The stakes are high. Clementine goes skidding onto her knees a handful of times in the second half of the match; has muck seeping into places that shouldn’t see the light of day. She collides with the rival midfielder on one particularly painful occasion and yet she still sends the puck flying into their goal. As the rain eventually starts to come down, mingling with the sweat on her forehead, Clementine hears the final whistle blow.

Laura launches herself painfully into Clementine's ribs.

The timer on the score counter above them runs out.

There’s an avid roar of enthusiasm from the crowd in the stands as the game ends with the final goal. Clementine realises suddenly that their team has scraped their way to victory in the last couple of seconds, winning one point ahead of their rivals, and then she is crushed beneath the bodies of her teammates as they pile on top of her, screaming their praises into her ear.

She manages to escape eventually as most of the crowd disperse.

Uncle Kenny, with Sarita and Duck in tow, are waiting for her beneath an umbrella in the parking lot beside her car.

"Well done," says Kenny joyfully, as she approaches. "Our girl's as brilliant as ever!"

"Hush," says Clem, giggling as she tosses her equipment into the back seat. "I didn't even realise."

"More's the point!" says Kenny. "A local hockey hero."

"You did wonderful, sweetheart," says Sarita, and Clementine blushes under their gaze.

"I'm gonna try out for baseball," says Duck. "Dad says I've got everythin' I need."

"I'm not too good at baseball," says Clementine, "but if you want we can play tennis next week?"

"Yeah!" says Duck.

It's been years since they've had a game of tennis. Katjaa used to be the best.

"Do you wanna grab a milkshake?" asks Kenny. "It's the least we can do, after that victory."

"Hum," says Clem, "I'm kinda hungry. And a little wet."

"Has Lee not text you?"

"He'll be home in – oh, ten minutes back," says Clem, after checking the time. "Alright, are we going drive-by?"

"Sit-in," says Kenny. "Come on, we're parked outside. I'll give you a ride, after we've done, either home or to pick up the car – okay?"

"Okay," says Clem.

She follows them out of the gates.

It seems instead of drying off, for the longer that Clementine sits in the diner she only seems to grow more uncomfortable and soggy. Still, she enjoys the chocolate milkshake, and manages to act cool and collected when Kenny asks how Mariana is doing after her bout of sickness.

Honestly, Clementine's hangover had lasted well into Monday afternoon but now she's feeling much better. In the end, she figures the cure was a good sleep and a bit of a cry, and Mariana had laughed when she told her. She'd messaged Louis on Monday morning, and Marlon without too much embarrassment, and both of their replies had been warm and Clementine began to think that maybe Louis was right after all.

No one cared.

She wishes she knew what he meant, however, about Violet and Minnie. But there isn't the time to speculate.

After finishing their drinks, and avoiding the eye of the boy who the last time they were here had written ' _ go vegan _ ' onto AJ's cast, Clementine climbs into the back seat of Kenny's truck and asks that he take her home instead of back to pick up the Mustang. She watches the street lamps fly by the windows and settles down for the ride. Clementine is covered in mud, aching from head to toe, and although she's tired she feels satisfied, even with the wipers on full speed against the lashing rain.

The first thing that Clementine hears when she opens the front door is laughter – a woman’s laughter, coupled with Lee's baritone voice. There are a handful of suitcases in the hallway, complete with fresh luggage tags, that Clementine pauses to inspect as she passes.

The radio is playing in the kitchen. A bottle of red wine, one of the more expensive ones that Lee keeps for special occasions, is standing half empty beside the sink and the room smells like home cooking. Lee has the dishtowel in one hand and he’s wrung it up really tight, so that he can flick – who else, but – Carley with the other end, and she’s giggling as she runs in circles around the counter. AJ is sitting on the stool beside them and laughing happily at their antics.

“What’s going on?” Clementine asks.

“Ah!” Lee exclaims. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“Hello,” Carley giggles. Her eyes are blurry and her cheeks are flushed. “Lee and I are just having some drinks.”

“I can see that.”

Carley looks a little tipsy, but then so does Lee and also happy, Clementine notes, as he slings the dishtowel over his shoulder and braces his hands on the top of the counter.

“I forgot to mention,” he says, “we didn’t really arrange anythin' until last night–“

“I’m back to visit my parents for the weekend,” says Carley.

“So she’s going to have dinner,” says Lee.

Clementine helps herself to the bottle of water from the fridge and moves to stand beside AJ. She's increasingly aware of the mud that's caked up the side of her legs, and covers her hockey boots, and is likely flaking off behind with every move she makes.

“Are those your cases in the hall?”

“Oh yes,” says Carley. “Don’t worry – I don’t want to intrude, I’m not staying over.”

“Yeah, that – it’s fine,” says Clem.

“So how was hockey?”

Clementine tells them all about it, including milkshakes with Kenny. She shows AJ the particularly gnarly bruise that’s forming on her shin, and demonstrates her saving final goal as Lee chuckles and pours another glass of wine for him and Carley. She offers to set the table, but Lee sends her to shower first and by the time Clem comes back down he is dishing out the beef and potatoes and carrots onto four plates and they all gather in the dining room. Afterwards, with full stomachs, and with AJ's head drooping into his lap as he yawns, Clementine decides to put him to bed and leave Lee and Carley in peace for the rest of the evening. Lee gives her a big hug before returning to the kitchen to help with the dishes.

When Clementine comes down a little later in the night, he and Carley are still giggling together. They've started on another bottle of wine, and are dancing in each other’s arms whilst  _ Sexual Healing _ plays from the radio. Clementine lingers in the doorway, watching them twirl.

Something settles, low in her chest, aching in a way she hasn't known before. It isn’t that she resents their newfound romance, hardly even close, but Clementine sees Lee’s face illuminated with emotion and she thinks of Mariana, who instead of letting her stay over as usual for a Friday night is tomorrow meeting up with Louis, and she can’t help but feel a little lonely. 

Everyone is moving on. They're gonna spend the summer nights wrapped up in each other's arms and Clementine will be alone. She'd wanted a summer romance; maybe even found the person she wanted it with. But none of that matters.

Maybe Mariana will remember and text every so often.

Say,  _ Hey Clem, how's vacation? _

Or Louis will suggest they meet up one day in town. But nothing will ever come of it and their good intentions will count for zero; it won't be the same because Clementine will be on her own.

She wanders back through to the living room, flopping down on the sofa and looking wistfully at the blank screen of her phone. She wishes she had Brody’s number, or maybe even Ruby’s. She thinks either girl would be helpful in a situation like this. But the only text that Clementine has received since arriving home is from one of the local takeouts, and somehow Clementine doesn't think that 50% off Chinese food will help in this situation. Then again, she could be wrong.

Eventually, she finds herself flipping through the TV channels and settles on watching old reruns of  _ Maverick _ for half an hour before Lee pops his head around the doorway.

“Do you want some cherry pie?” he asks cheerily.

“Cherry?” Clementine repeats.

“Yeah, it’s from Independent, you know they’re the best.”

Clementine feels the smile touch the corners of her mouth.

"Come on," says Lee, "I bought it for you. Kinda favoured apple, myself, but..."

"Alright," says Clem, "but I get the biggest slice."

She has no business being sad, she decides, and pockets her phone to forget about her lack of suitors for the evening. After dessert, they play  _ Cluedo _ and drunken  _ Jenga _ (and Carley loses), and Clementine gets so caught up in laughing at the silliness that her own miserable love life is the furthest thing from her mind.

Then she can't even remember why she'd started moping.

Eventually, when the time comes for Carley to head back to her hotel, Lee calls a cab. Clementine watches from the porch as they press clumsy kisses to the side of each other's mouths.

“What’ll happen when she flies back to Illinois?” Clementine asks, when Lee comes in and locks the door behind them.

“Never you mind,” he says, "we’ll work it out. And don’t be gettin' ideas – we're not a couple, you know!"

"Of course not," says Clem, with a roll of her eyes.

She isn't really going to be left alone.

The next evening, they order pizza, and Lee feigns casual indifference when Clementine suggests they watch  _ Sleepless in Seatle. _

The following day is the first Saturday in months that Clementine has to spend without hockey. She wakes up to the sound of rain hammering against her window once again, and AJ shouting as he plays in the hallway. For the first hour, Clementine busies herself with making breakfast for them all, whilst Lee gets onto the internet and searches for Zoo Atlanta. It's a disappointment to them all, of course, to learn that it's closed until the worst of the weather blows over.

"Nevermind," says Clem, as she sees AJ's face fall over the plate of French toast. "We'll make our own attraction."

And Lee promises they'll visit as soon as the zoo reopens.

Clementine finds herself shortly after on the living room floor, an assortment of plastic toy animals strewn all around her. She and AJ set about making what – in theory – is a replica of the zoo out of yet more empty toilet rolls and a tub of AJ's Lego, whilst Lee stays in the kitchen to telephone Carley.

The toilet rolls, cut into halves, form the roofs of the inside pens, and every animal is allocated a different colour of brick. They manage to build over half of the zoo in the first hour alone, and although most of their dimensions are wildly out of scale, AJ quickly forgets that they're supposed to be going anywhere.

Then there’s a loud buzz as the doorbell rings, and Clementine jumps so hard that she scatters the tiny lions by her feet over into the elephant's enclosure.

“Clem!” comes Lee’s shout from the kitchen.

“Yeah!” she says, already climbing to her feet.

“It must be Kenny,” he tells her, and sure enough he’s appeared in the kitchen doorway wearing his ridiculous floral apron and the phone is tucked beneath his chin. “Mustn't've got my message – just gimme a minute.”

Clementine takes the latch off the door. Her heart drops solidly into her stomach and then bounces right back up to her throat. Violet is standing in the rain, soaked to the skin. Her hair is plastered to her head and still, she laughs at Clementine's reaction.

“What the fuck,” Clementine hisses.

It takes her less than a moment. She grabs Violet’s arm and pulls her inside, shakes her hand free of rainwater and slams the door behind them.

“What on earth are you doing here?”

“It's good to see you,” says Violet.

And then Lee's voice is on its way back from the kitchen.

“Kenny,” he calls, “it's bad news I'm afraid; closed until further notice and – oh.”

He looks only half as shocked as Clementine, but there’s no denying the surprise in Lee's expression **** as he stops dead in the hallway. Clementine notes he’s taken off the apron and his phone is in the pocket of his jeans instead.

“Hi,” says Violet softly.

“False alarm!” he says. “Clem, you didn't tell me we were having visitors."

"No." Clem shakes her head. "I didn't know."

They share a look. Lee remembers this girl, Clementine knows he does, and it's unlikely that he's blocked out any or all of their conversation from the previous Sunday evening. As Violet stands dripping rainwater all over the carpet, and Lee's eyes shift slowly between the two girls in his hallway, eventually he asks,

"Did anyone give you a ride?"

Violet shakes her head.

"Longer walk than I expected," she says, and scrunches her nose as a fat bead of water trickles down the centre.

"Not from the middle of town, I hope?"

"The bus stop off 441..."

Lee all but clutches his heart.

“D'you want some spare clothes?”

"It's fine," says Clementine quickly. "She'll borrow some of mine."

Violet glances over.

Lee is nodding his head.

"Yeah, you can't sit around like that!"

"I'll sort her out."

"Good," says Lee, "right. I better ring Kenny, need to double-check –"

He waves his hand in a semblance of parting and turns back out of the hallway. Clementine jerks her head towards the stairs.

“Come on,” she says to Violet, “tell me when you're dry.”

She ruffles AJ's hair in the doorway as they pass.

“I’ll be down in five minutes.”

“I suppose I didn’t think it through,” says Violet, as they climb the stairs. “Fuck, to be honest, I didn’t think at all.”

“How do you know my address?”

“Louis,” says Violet. “I mean, I guess through Marietta – wait, is that her name?”

It’s a little bit weird, thinks Clem, but somehow she’s finding she doesn’t care. Violet is in her house. Violet is at the top of the stairs. Violet is looking up at the photos of Clementine as she's grown throughout the years, and AJ since he was baby, and Clementine feels a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Mariana?” she suggests.

“Right,” says Violet, and then, “Shit, sorry, this is weird.”

“No,” says Clem. “I mean, yeah, it really is but...”

She pauses. She laughs. It’s ridiculous.

“It’s good to see you, too.”

Violet smiles. “Sorry,” she repeats. “I know I shoulda text, but I was just around and – I mean I guess I thought you wouldn’t reply.”

“Do you have my number?”

“It’s been in my phone since last weekend,” says Violet.

“Right...” says Clem.

She tries to piece the situation together in her head.

Violet says, “Uh, you put it in there, y’know? I’m not a  _ total _ creeper.”

“Oh!” says Clem, as if she remembers.

Violet’s still dripping onto the carpet.

“Clothes,” says Clementine. “Do you have a preference? I’ve got jeans, if they'll fit you, or sweat pants? Look, I’m not the girl to wear real clothes in the house, okay, so...”

“Comfort,” Violet agrees, as Clementine heads to the bathroom and she follows. “Thanks.”

Clementine locates some freshly laundered sweat pants and a vest top in the chest beside the airing cupboard and promptly passes them over. The courteous part of her brain suggests she should probably offer some underwear while she's at it, but the part that’s malfunctioning as Violet takes off her jacket and hoodie already can’t cope with the idea alone. In truth, she's never felt more like an adolescent teenage boy.

Or a Victorian gentleman, about to catch a sliver of ankle for the first time in his life.

Violet glances up, a little expectantly, and Clementine realises that's she’s staring.

“Oh,” she says, "I’ll be outside, uh... Knock if you need anything.”

She closes the bathroom door. In a couple of minutes, it opens again and Violet is standing in her clothes. She proffers the wet bundle of jeans and jackets forward awkwardly.

“Where..?”

“Yeah,” says Clem. “Wait, where are your shoes? Grab them too, we’ll put everything in the drier.”

Violet follows her back downstairs. They pile the clothes into the machine and pop Violet’s boots up on top of it, so they might dry by proxy. Clementine makes Violet a warm drink – because surely that’s just good manners – and they head back into the living room.

“Are you going to sign my cast now?” asks AJ.

He’s still sitting on the floor surrounded by toy animals.

“Yes!” says Violet.

Clementine grabs a pen. 

They play until AJ is bored, making small talk, and putting on stupid voices for AJ's amusement as he adds more perimeter fences to their attraction. If Violet doesn’t have siblings, thinks Clem, then she really does a good job of pretending otherwise. Violet insists that they need a visitor centre if the zoo is to function as in reality, although as soon as this is set up she and AJ are determined to bring it back down. The lions are released, as are the tigers, and soon AJ is shrieking with laughter as Violet stages a ferocious battle between the security guard and a pack of hungry large cats.

Eventually, Lee ducks into the room, narrowing avoiding the monkey enclosure (almost stretched into the hallway), and looks quickly around at their map.

"So no one wants to come to the store?" he offers. "I'm only picking up a few treats, on account of the weather."

AJ jumps up. "Yeah!" he says. "I'll go, I wanna come!"

"I'm good," says Clem. 

"Quite happy here," agrees Violet. Her hair is no longer clinging to her cheeks and forehead.

"You look a little drier," says Lee. "Will you be around for dinner?"

"Uh..."

Violet blanches.

"It's alright," he says quickly, "you can let me know later. Come on, AJ, we won't be long."

Both girls wait until the front door closes. AJ has acted as a quite pleasant buffer between them, and now they avoid eye contact subtly until they hear the car pull out of the driveway, and the house becomes quiet around them. Clementine still doesn't know why Violet is here.

"So..." she says, and readjusts the roof over the tiger pen.

"I didn't know the answer," says Violet.

"What d'you mean?"

"About stayin' for dinner."

"Oh," says Clem, "well, is there any rush?"

Violet shrugs. She picks at a loose seam on the leg of the sweat pants.

"I suppose if you want me to stay..."

"Yeah," says Clem. And then she starts bullshitting. "I mean, your clothes might not be dry yet. It's best to wait 'til they are. And not to mention your shoes –"

"I'd likely get blisters if I wore them now."

"– so you might as well stay for a while."

"Mmm," says Violet. A smile splits her face. "Alright," she says, "what d'you wanna do? Apart from play zoo."

"I thought you were into it."

Violet snickers. "Stop," she says.

Clementine takes a photo of their work before they decide to tidy up. She sends it to Mariana, as Violet excuses herself for the bathroom, and subtitles it as,

_ Violet helped, just so you know _ .

_ Oh my god _ , is the reply she receives.

Clementine checks Facebook as she hears the toilet flushing above her. The first thing on the timeline is a selfie of Mari and Louis, timestamped three hours ago, both huddled together with his coat over their head, smiling their big toothy grins.

Marlon has commented below, a singular word:  _ gay. _

Clementine's phone buzzes as she laugh reacts it shamelessly, and this time the text is from Louis.

_ Just helping a girl out xx _ , he says.

Clementine closes her eyes against the rush of affection and quickly tucks her phone back into her pocket. When Violet returns to the living room, Clementine knows what she's going to ask.

“How old are you, Vi?”

“18,” Violet tells her. “October 26th, which makes me a Scorpio.”

“Me too,” says Clem. And then, unrelated, “Why are you here?”

She doesn't mean it unkindly. There's a warmth that’s settled in her stomach, like melted caramel, for Violet; and for Louis and Mariana as well. Clementine thinks she still might feel the vibrations in her chest if Violet gets a little closer, but for now they're calmed with a deep breath and steady gaze. Violet’s eyes are not as green as Clementine had thought; they're freckled with hazel, and are the colour of light sage.

“I wanted to know you,” says Violet, “without any pressure.”

Clementine wants to kiss her. She knows she doesn’t have the right nor the confidence that Violet would kiss back. So instead she smiles and looks down at the carpet.

“Alright,” she says, with a nod. “D’you wanna listen to some music?”

“Alright,” says Violet.

And Clementine leads the way.

They settle in the dining room and Clementine riffles through the record collection.

“Do you like The Stones?” she asks, “or, um... Tom Waits?”

“I can see Led Zeppelin,” says Violet, with a nod to the albums.

Clementine brings out  _ Houses of the Holy _ and looks over the tracklist.

“My mom went to see them," says Violet, "in Birmingham in '77, couple of years after that was released."

“Live?” says Clementine.

"'Course," says Violet. "She travelled all over. Wanted to follow them 'round on tour but Grandma said no, but then Mom turned 14 and started hitchhikin' to places."

“I don’t know what music my parents liked,” says Clementine, "but Lee’s always had these albums and sometimes we go thrift shopping and pick up a few more. The last time,” she says, “we found  _ Quadrophenia _ in the five dollar record bin.”

“Five dollars!” gasps Violet. “No way. What’s your favourite song?”

“You’ll think I’m corny,” says Clementine.

“Try me,” says Violet. “Come on, most weekends I’m stuck with Brody blabbering about Whitesnake and – fuckin' – Lana Del Rey, I’m used to a little corny!”

“It’s  _ Love _ ,” says Clem, “ _ Reign O'er Me _ .”

“Appropriate,” says Violet.

“With the sound of the rain? Maybe it is."

Led Zeppelin goes back into the collection; The Who comes out. Clementine guides the needle so that the first song that plays is Track 3, Side 4 and the static and atmosphere takes over the room. There's something peaceful and replenishing about listening in silence with Violet as the music kicks in and the rain still pours outside. But then the front door opens and AJ comes bounding through the house.

"Clementine!" he's shouting.

“Slow down,” Lee tells him.

He runs through to the dining room. If AJ was a puppy, thinks Clementine, he'd be wagging his tail. He dives onto her lap, almost rocking the table's chair back on its hind legs, and Clementine grabs AJ around the waist before he can slide onto the floor.

“Whoa,” she says.

He gibbers on about having a BBQ; about Lee saying they could have friends over and lots of candy and stay outside until nightfall. Lee extends the invitation, grocery bag in hand; says maybe next week or the one after that, the start of school break, before Kenny's summer vacation. AJ has forgotten all about the zoo. 

Eventually, Lee drops the hint.

"Now why don't you help me make the cookies, AJ," he suggests, very casually, "and leave the girls alone?"

Clementine kisses AJ's forehead goodbye.

They talk shit, mainly after that, and about old American movies and Clementine's car and its cassette player. Violet says she'll bring some tapes from her mom's old collection – hanging around, she says, never being played – and tells Clem she's got the air of someone who likes country-folk music. They make each other laugh, which is always a bonus. They giggle about their friends and listen to the  _ Led Zeppelin III _ and _ Aretha Now _ albums their entirety. Clementine is just about to get up, to change the record, when AJ comes back into the dining room with a stack of plates. 

“Shit,” says Violet. “What time is it?”

It’s growing dark outside of the window, earlier than expected because of the rain, not that they’d noticed, but when Clementine checks her phone she sees it’s only a quarter to six. 

“I guess you’re staying for dinner,” she says, as AJ stretches to place the four plates on the table. “I guess Lee’s already decided.”

“Ya,” says Violet. “I guess I am.”

Clementine takes over. She sends AJ back to get knives and forks and sets the table properly in time for Lee to bring in the dishes of roast chicken and mashed potatoes, cauliflower, peas, gravy. She catches his eye across the table. Violet behind them is stacking the records back into the cabinet and turning everything off. Clementine grins.

Later, the four of them sit down to watch a movie. Violet argues, maybe just for the sake of it, about the time she needs to leave, determined not to overstay her welcome, but in the end she accepts her place on the sofa next to Clem with very little resistance. A poorly timed  _ ohh  _ from Violet; an  _ um _ and an  _ ahh _ there, and Clementine says,

"But we've still got three hours!"

And Violet decides to stay.

Lee laughs, and jokes, and chats with her in the same way he does with all of Clementine's friends – natural and easy. Clementine holds her excitement very close to her chest but inside she feels she’s fit to burst. Violet’s thigh is warm beside hers beneath the sweat pants. She settles her hand in the small space between them and doesn’t move when Clementine feigns the casual act of putting hers beside it.

Maybe  _ this _ will be her summer romance – a summer of subtle touches and pining, of never making the first move. But Clementine thinks she'd be okay with it, as long as Violet's there.

She wills the movie to last as long as possible.

She pauses every time someone has to get up to leave the room.

Lee passes around the cookies; brings milk and serviettes.

For all of their stalling, which perhaps is obvious, eventually, the movie has to end. Starring and directed by Clint Eastwood rolls across with the credits, and Violet stretches as she stands up to leave.

“I can’t miss the bus,” she says, and Clementine agrees reluctantly.

She lets Violet stay in the sweat pants. They conveniently forget to take the clothes out of the drier and Violet comes back in only her boots instead.

“It’s been nice to see you,” says Lee. “Now, don’t be a stranger, you’re welcome anytime.”

Violet smiles.

“Thanks for dinner,” she says. “Say goodbye to AJ for me.” 

He’d fallen asleep over an hour ago in the armchair beside the fireplace.

Violet slides into the passenger seat of Clementine's car, and Clementine starts the engine. 

“Would you really bring me some tapes?” asks Clementine, as they’re driving back towards the centre of town.

It's finally stopped raining. The roads are wet and slick.

“What?” says Violet, as if for a moment she’s forgotten. “Oh, totally! It’s not like they get used anymore, y’know. And maybe we’ll take a day trip,” she suggests. “Drive around, listen to a few."

“I’d like that.” Clementine nods. “We were talking, Mari and I, a couple of weeks ago with her step-mom, about where we’d like to visit.”

“The Grand Canyon,” says Violet. “Shit, I know it’s miles away and I’d never - I can’t even drive -"

“Me too,” Clementine tells her. “The Grand Canyon, I mean.”

“I figured. Plenty of hours for music, though."

“So let’s go," says Clem. "I mean it, don’t laugh!” Her heart flutters as Violet screws her face up. “I wanna make something of the summer. I don’t want to go back and realise I’ve wasted the months!”

"Easier said," says Violet, "but alright, deal. There's a BBQ and a road trip. As long as you’re payin’, you can count me in."

Clementine thinks she’d dive into her college fund at this point if it meant that Violet continued to look at her like that, and Clementine would agree to take her anywhere, do anything at all. Even if that was only a ride back to the bus stop.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you home?” she asks, as they pull up to the kerb and Violet takes off her seatbelt.

“Sure,” says Violet. “It’s been good, y’know, but…”

Clementine waits, her hands on the wheel.

Violet shakes her head.

“I’ll be alright,” she says instead.

“Well, you’ll text me,” says Clementine, “when you get home.”

“What, are you my mother?”

Violet grins over her shoulder and slides out of the passenger door.

“Serious,” says Clementine. “Promise me.”

"Don't be a sap," says Violet. "Okay, I promise."

She slams the car door; fingerguns Clementine through the window before she turns to cross the road. Clementine debates, only for a moment, watching until she’s safely onto the bus but the elderly gentleman that's already waiting strikes up a conversation, and Clementine decides that she’ll be alright.

"She doesn't have a girlfriend," says Lee, when Clementine arrives home.

"What d'you mean?" asks Clem.

Lee gives her a look.

"For all your smarts," he says, "you sure are slow on the uptake."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course Violet's a Scorpio, fight me on that. Coincidentally, when I first played S4, the character and goddamn the appearance of Violet reminded me entirely of one of my closest friends who you should know by now as Lauren, my beta. On request, they're sharing a birthday.
> 
> At first, I thought that maybe making Violet's mom in her late 50s was a little... I don't know what the word is. I thought maybe it was a little too old in comparison to the rest of the parents. By my calculations, Lee should be about 45 years old in the year 2020, and David only a little bit older. Then I decided, no, people can have children at whatever age they want, and to hell with it.


	8. Watermelon Sugar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Watermelon Sugar_ by Harry Styles and _Yellow Cloud_ by Trixie Mattel are the biggest Chapter 8 moods.  
>   
> Hi, how y'all doing?  
>   
> I had a terrible time last week but again I'm feeling chipper. I'm posting this chapter early as a result.

It's as if Violet's visit to the house jolts the weather back into its regular routine. The sun is peeking shyly out from behind the clouds the next morning and although many of the churchgoers bring their umbrellas in anticipation, they stay folded and dry beneath the pews for the entirety of the sermon. Kenny chalks it down to being part of God's plan, says one final downpour before summer truly begins will help them all to appreciate what the season has in store, and although it crosses her mind Clementine knows better than to ask if he believes in fate.

Instead, she follows Lee and AJ out of the church doors, pulls out her phone and answers her texts.

_ Endured two hours of John 4:7, _ she tells Violet,  _ but my morning's going well, how's yours? _

Kenny and Lee decide it's best to give the treehouse another go, because as Lee points out it's been 3 weeks already, and only another 3 to go until AJ's cast is taken off. And they want to be ready. So Kenny hops into his truck, drops Duck off with Katjaa and then swings back by the house.

Ericson are due to finish school next Wednesday afternoon. Clementine and Mariana have until the Friday. Someone suggests they have another party to celebrate the end of the year.

Suddenly there's a group conference call.

Everyone's on Facetime – including Louis, who's hovering over Mariana's shoulder, using her phone. Clementine doesn't need to ask if they've been together all weekend, because Marlon does it for her. Everyone jeers and cajoles. Louis kisses her cheek as Mariana turns a shade of pink and giggle-snorts into her palm.

"So does everyone agree?" asks Aasim.

He mightn't drink, but he's coming to the party.

"Absolutely," says Marlon. "Clem, are you in?"

"I promise," says Violet, grinning and the background spins behind her as she turns with the camera, "not to let you drink as much this time."

Clementine giggles and nods. She avoids Lee's pointed smirk as he passes the kitchen doorway with a hammer and a hacksaw.

"I'm in," she says. "Of course I am."

By Tuesday afternoon, the sun is out and shining high again in the sky. The grass is still damp, beneath the maple trees in the school grounds, but she and Mariana stretch out on the ground anyway. They bunch their jackets beneath their heads, glad they're not wearing light colours.

"I really like him," says Mariana wistfully as she's gazing at the leaves above them.

In the background, they can hear the tinkle of pop music drifting from somebody's speaker over near the picnic tables.

"Yeah," says Clem, "I can tell."

She smiles, turning over onto her side.

"He said he hopes I don't feel left out," she says, "and it's nice. I wouldn't want you to settle for anything less."

Mariana's fingers close tighter around her phone as it vibrates. Perhaps she thinks about answering, maybe for a second, but Clementine is glad that she doesn't. Instead, Mariana sighs deeply, happily, and rolls to face her friend. The dappled sunlight illuminates the amber in her eyes.

"About Violet," she says. "You devil, I can't believe it took you so long."

"What?" giggles Clementine.

"Honestly," Mariana tells her, "you should've said something weeks ago. Fuck, I've been going on,  _ who's the guy, who's the guy _ , as if – wow – the fuckin'  _ guy _ !"

"Would you keep your voice down."

"Alright," says Mariana, "jeez, so give me a hint, who else do you like? Celebrities, why we don't we start there!"

"How old are you?"

"Mary Lambert?" she suggests. "Or, oh, more your style, Joan Jett?"

"Shush." Clementine giggles. "It isn't funny."

Mariana tuts. "Of course it's funny," she says. "D'you know how much of an idiot I feel?"

"Not as much as me."

"Oh," says Mariana, “I doubt it. You must’ve dropped, like, a hundred hints.”

“Not on purpose,” says Clem. “I just couldn’t lie and tell you it was a guy.”

"I dunno." Mariana shrugs. “I shoulda got the idea.”

Clementine smiles at her.

“What do you think,” she asks, “do I have a chance?”

"Well, it didn't seem like Violet was making an effort to be anywhere except with you at the party,” Mariana tells her sagely. She takes a sip of her juice box, and then continues, “And shit, she phoned Louis for his advice on Saturday, before she came to you.”

“Did she?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“We’ve been texting,” says Clem. “Nothing special. Nothing –" She takes a breath, daring herself. “– flirtatious.”

Mariana laughs. “What's the saying – all’s fair in love and war?”

When Clementine doesn’t respond, she goes on,

"Hey, hey!” She reaches out, tangling her fingers into Clementine's across the grass. “You’re just fine. Don’t make the first move and see how it goes. For all we know, her and – what’s her girlfriend’s name? – Minnie – their relationship runs its own course. And if Violet decides she’d rather spend time with you, alone, then so be it.”

“I dunno,” says Clem. “I feel kinda guilty. Happy, you know, but... guilty.”

"Why?” cries Mariana. “Everyone makes their own choices. If anything happens – they break up, fingers crossed? – that’s between them, and not you. And besides,” she adds, with a little smirk, “I happen to think you’re a catch.”

"Please." Clementine rolls her eyes. "You're my best friend, you have to say that."

"Still good enough for Gabriel."

"Good enough?" Clementine repeats. "I see."

"Now don't be getting sassy–"

Mariana's phone vibrates again between them.

"Is that your boyfriend?"

"Har-har," says Mariana, and she pulls her hand away from Clementine’s. “Louis says check your messages.”

“What?”

Violet has sent over a photo of her and Louis together. She’s covered in flour and Louis is in the background holding a cake platter – in Home Economics, says Violet. Louis is a shit baker. Their Red Velvet cake looks like someone sat on it because Louis has forgotten to add the baking powder to the batter, and then to add insult to injury has dropped it on the way back from the oven. Violet has tried her hardest, she says, to frost over the worst of the damage, but the cake still looks exhausted.

_ But does it taste okay? _ asks Clementine.

Violet sends an upside-down smiley face, which Clementine takes as a resounding no.

“Dad's gonna kill me,” says Mariana, “if he finds out where they go to school.”

“What did you tell him? He must have noticed you and Louis were together all weekend.”

"Yeah..."

Mariana grimaces. She rolls back over to stare at the leaves.

“Dad thinks he goes to the Academy. It was the first place that came to my mind and now he’s asking all sorts of questions.”

“Hasn’t Kate told him?”

“No, she and Gabe are keeping quiet.”

“It’s only two more weeks,” says Clem. “Or even one, for Louis. And then you can say he’s going to UGA and it’ll be the truth.”

“I guess,” says Mariana. And the bell rings. “I wish it didn't have to be like that. Like, God forbid I ever let our parents meet!”

Clementine titters. They climb slowly to their feet, brushing down each other’s backs and straightening their t-shirts. Kids are beginning to disperse around them.

“It’s alright,” Clem says. “It’ll be some real Romeo and Juliet bullshit that we’ll laugh about in years to come.” She tucks her phone and her texts back into the pocket of her jacket and swings it around her shoulders. "Louis can sneak to your bedroom window in the middle of the night, and you'll come up with a plan to elope." 

Mariana is shaking her head.

"But, you know, you can always come hide out with me until the worst blows over.”

“Hmm," says Mariana. "He might ground me for a couple of weeks, but... It isn't that serious."

Summer swells in the air around them.

As the end of the year looms, it becomes more and more difficult to focus on their school work. The air conditioning breaks halfway through Geography. Clementine has to be buffeted awake when they're back in Math class. In Science, their teacher simply asks if they've all done the reading and then opens the doors to let them wander around the school grounds for the next 45 minutes, under the guise of identifying different types of plant. Some of the class comply with her wishes; more than half either sneak for a cigarette or just sit out beneath the sunshine. They watch as the older girls play soccer in PE and as two of them argue over who had collided with who, but Peter creates the most excitement by pointing to the dog that's running through the schoolyard.

Later in week, Clem and Mariana decide to go shopping. Clementine is fast outgrowing her shorts, although hardly in the way she’d like (out, instead of up) and Mariana swears as if to rub it in that she has grown taller by at least three inches since last May. Clementine drops AJ off with Barbara, and they head over to the mall.

Clementine's eyes linger, instead of on shorts, over a distressed Led Zeppelin t-shirt in H&M.

“Carolina in your mind?” asks Mariana.

“That isn’t a Led Zeppelin song,” says Clementine, "nor is it about a person!"

“You know what I mean.”

“No.”

Clementine picks it up anyway. She knows what Mariana means. She carries it around half of the store before circling to place it back on the rack. Maybe that’s Violet’s thing. Maybe she’s just hyperfixating on every possible scenario surrounding her – summers by the lake, nights under the stars. Driving up, maybe to the quarry, listening to her mom's tapes and laughing. Holding hands. Being kissed in the front seat of the Mustang.

"I wish we didn't have homework," grumbles Mariana from beside her. "I still have to finish Ms Madison's final paper, and –"

"Can we pretend we've already finished?" says Clementine.

Mariana is ruining her daydream fantasy.

"Think about how cute we'll look in these outfits."

"Sure," says Mariana. "So are you gonna buy that?"

Clementine goes home with three pairs of shorts, a gingham pinafore, pleated skirt, cropped bralette and the Led Zeppelin t-shirt. Mariana also tries to convince her to buy a matching set of underwear in Victoria's Secret, but Clementine declines. Of course, she gives Lee a fashion show the moment he asks what she's bought, and parades in and out of the living room in each new outfit.

Lee nods, and smiles, and says, "Very nice!" every time Clementine reappears.

She plans to stay with Mariana the following evening, to revive their usual routine. They shield their eyes against the sun as they come out of the shadow of the school building, and Mariana says,

“Wow, it’s too nice to stay inside today.”

Marlon seems to have a similar idea. Clementine and Mariana are trying to ventilate the car before they climb inside, when Clementine receives a text from him without any context.

_ Do you happen to own a tent? _

One telephone call later, and Marlon has formulated a plan. Clementine asks to borrow Kenny's eight-man Ozark, and after picking it up she and Mariana drive to meet everyone else at a little country park just outside of town.

“Have you brought blankets?” asks Marlon, when he greets them in the parking lot. He’s wearing a trucker cap backwards over his mullet, and a white wife-beater. The dust from the tyres settles gently behind him.

“Shit,” says Clem, “I knew there was something.”

Marlon laughs.

“It’s alright, it’s alright, look – gimme that bag – we’re just settin' up through here – bound to be some spares.”

He leads them into a patch of forest, where a clearing is already set out and marked with four wooden benches. Several footpaths branch off on either side and sunlight filters between the gaps in the trees. Louis and Brody are struggling with a small two-man tent. Ruby is setting up some pots and pans in the middle as hers sits already proudly erected behind them. The air smells like earth and pine leaves.

“They're here,” says Violet.

“Oh, thank God!” cries Brody. She straightens up, swiping her fringe dramatically back from her forehead. “Marlon," she says, "we can’t do this!”

“Relax,” he tells her.

“Are you struggling?" Clementine drops her backpack by her feet. “Come on, show me what pieces you have, it’s been a few years but I remember the basics.”

Mariana is looking around the clearing.

“Is anyone else on their way?” she asks.

“Aasim is comin' down,” says Ruby, "and Omar, with a bunch of food. Mitch says he’s busy, but he’ll make the party.”

“I dunno whether a fire is the best idea,” says Clementine. “Not here.”

“No,” Ruby tells her, "I’ve brought a little gas burner. Don’t wanna set the forest alight now, do we?”

There's a loud rustling as Marlon begins to pull the groundsheet out of the Ozark bag.

“I’ll help,” says Violet.

Metal rods and guide ropes are thrown haphazardly to the floor.

“Louis, don’t just stand there, grab a corner!”

Eventually, Clementine manages to wrestle Brody's tent into submission, and everyone else pulls together to build the eight-man tent. By the time Omar and Aasim arrive with a backpack of groceries, their overnight sleeping arrangements are fully assembled and Clementine falls into the space on the floor beside Ruby to survey **** all of their hard work. She takes a photo to send over to Kenny, although her phone blinks without signal.

“This is the last time,” says Omar, “I’ll likely see all of you guys in the same place.”

“Yeah,” says Marlon, “only three more school days!"

“We shoulda done this more often,” says Ruby. “I'll bet this place looks amazing when the sun starts to set.”

“Damn," says Louis. "Has anyone brought flashlights?”

“Uh, your phone?” suggests Violet.

She circles the clearing and comes back to feign a casual sprawl in front of Clementine. Louis kicks gently at her arm as he passes.

“Don’t be like that,” he tells her. “You know I don’t have a flashlight on mine.”

“Then use Mariana’s.”

“Quiet,” says Brody, "it’s hardly gonna matter by the time we’re ready for bed.”

"Speakin' of," says Marlon, "we've got dibs on the two-man tent."

"I'm sleepin' in my own!" says Ruby.

"Well, what about Aasim?"

"What  _ about _ Aasim?" says Aasim.

"There's plenty of room in mine," Clementine tells them. "It's split into sections, so..."

"Louis and Mariana in one," says Marlon. "Omar in another; Aasim bunks up with Ruby, and Violet can share with you!"

Ruby begins to argue, and Aasim tells Marlon that his numeracy skills aren't all that perfect – 

"There are 11 beds between the 9 of us!"

– but it makes everyone else giggle, and Omar says,

"Wow, I didn't know this was a couples-only trip."

Violet is tittering, shaking her head. Brody is telling Marlon to let the subject drop and Aasim is red in the face.

"Louis brought a deck of cards!" Mariana announces, before any serious arguments can start to break out. She holds the packet up high in the air as the eyes of the group turn to her, and continues, "I'm gonna deal, so everyone shut up!"

Clementine is relieved to discover that it works. Everyone shuffles and shimmies a little closer. Violet falls into line between Clementine and Louis on her other side, as Mariana counts their cards. She notes that Marlon's grin is still stretched arrogantly across his face, and when he meets Clementine's gaze, he winks and the grin widens. Ruby ties up her hair and remains determined to look everywhere except at Aasim.

"Okay," says Louis, "you know the rules."

"Seven Diamonds play first," says Mariana.

"And work clockwise 'round the circle after that!"

The friendships blossom. There are less awkward pauses, and awkward questions for that matter, and Clementine drinks the beers that Marlon has brought (from his cousin, apparently) but not enough get trashed; just enough to give her a buzz in her fingertips, and encourage her appetite when the sandwiches are ready. Omar brings out punnets of fresh fruit for dessert, and they hide their cards face down while they all tuck into their dinner.

Aasim apologies for shouting.

Ruby says he still has to sleep in the bigger tent.

"First time you haven't burnt the sausages, Omar," says Brody, as she wipes her mouth with the sleeve of her jacket. Marlon lets out a large belch beside her and she slaps him lightly on the arm.

"Manners!" cries Ruby.

Omar laughs. "So my dad bought a BBQ," he tells them, almost proudly. "I've been practising at weekends to be the best chef in town!"

"It's better than _ my  _ cooking," says Louis.

"Jeez," says Mariana, "did anyone else see the cake?"

"Oh God," says Brody.

"I'll take no responsibility," Violet insists.

"Cake seems to be a strong word..."

"It had sunk in the middle!"

"I'll never make a housewife," Louis tells them, "look, I can admit to that! So it's a good thing I'm charming, else I'd never survive the real world. Mariana," he says, with a grin, "you're good at cooking, right?"

"Awful," she says.

And it's a lie, but she's beaming as she looks at him. Clementine feels the crackle in the air between them; feels like she ought to look away, as if she's intruding, but nevertheless allows the smile to crack her face.

"Get a room," says Violet. "Ugh, you're worse than Marlon and Brody."

There's a chorus of agreement; a few laughs as Louis throws a handful of dirt at Violet's head. Brody wraps her arm around Marlon's neck, pulling him into her chest where he presses a kiss to the underside of her jaw. He settles beneath her hair, half sprawled on the ground, and Violet snorts with amusement when he flips her off. Everyone picks up their cards and the game slowly continues.

They pass around the punnets of fruit. Clementine chooses the squares of diced pineapple and melon (much to Louis' distaste), and shares the last of the strawberries with Violet. The newest can of beer, fizzing on her tongue and dribbling down her chin, tastes funny although not unpleasant alongside the sweetness of the fruit.

Finally, the light starts to change. Shadows crawl over Clementine's sneakers and her bare knees, and when she looks up between the trees she sees that the sun is sinking lower as evening descends. Subtle, golden rays filter into the clearing. The undergrowth around them is coming to life with tiny, twinkling lights.

"Clementine, hold still..."

Louis is climbing up from his knees.

Heads turn as Clementine freezes, and Louis approaches as if she's a wounded animal. His eyes are wide with awe. Clementine can't help but hold her breath as Louis brings his hands up over her head, closing gently in her hair and lets out a satisfied huff.

"Oh, Clementine," says Ruby, "look how beautiful!"

In Louis' palm is a brilliant, glowing firefly. It moves slowly over his fingers and Louis turns so that everyone can see the creature's slender, segmented body lighting up his hand.

"Hey, I think she likes you," he says, with a chuckle, as the firefly takes flight and lands back in Clementine's hair.

"She's a girl?" asks Brody. "How can you tell?"

Louis reaches again for the firefly.

"I don't have a clue," he says, and this time casts it gently off back into the trees. “Magic, huh?”

Clementine beams. 

"I bet we could watch the sunset from the top of the hill," Aasim suggests, stretching to grab for his hoodie. “If we take the third path there on the left, it'll bring us right out of the forest."

Everyone agrees that it’s a good idea. The light grows brighter, and more vibrant, as they make their way through the trees. Excitement kicks in after Mariana stumbles over some brambles and Louis hoists her up for a piggyback despite her shrieks of protest, and Marlon gets it into his head to do the same to Brody. The two boys race ahead with bursts of laughter, holding tight to the girls' legs, while Aasim cries to stick to the path and Clementine and the others hurry on behind.

“Come on,” yells Marlon, emerging at the foot of the embankment, "last one to the top!"

“No!” shouts Brody, but he’s already set off. 

Everyone squeals with enthusiasm. Louis drops Mariana accidentally halfway up the hill, and although he begins to gasp out an apology, Mariana only giggles and bats his hands away, pushes herself back to her feet and scrambles after Omar as he overtakes. Clementine is no stranger to competition.

"Hey," she shouts to Violet, "I'll bet I can beat you."

"Oh yeah?" says Violet.

She lunges for Clementine's ankle. The two of them collapse down into the grass and Ruby dashes past. There is pushing and shoving and giggling but somewhere along the way, Violet's hand latches onto Clementine's and instead of fighting, Clementine hauls them both to the summit. The view, upon arrival, is unlike anything she's seen before.

"Fuck," Marlon's gasping, "wouldya look at that!"

The race is quickly forgotten.

"Shit," Violet whispers.

And everyone seems to be in agreement. Only their breathing, calming from the climb, breaks in the swell of warm air.

The silhouette of the city is now barely a hazy suggestion of apartment blocks and office buildings in the distance. The sun is hanging low over the horizon. In the forefront are the gilded fields – the farmer and his tractor, the walker and her dog – and sky is an endless canvas stretching above them, awash with shades of pink, purple and a tangerine more vivid than Clem could have imagined. Although a steady procession of cars make their way up along the road, from here it's impossible to hear the traffic, only the calls of the birds on the way back to their nests and the chirp of crickets in the brush.

Ruby's hair looks redder than it ever has before. Another firefly dances in the air around her, and lands for a moment in her ponytail before taking flight again.

Louis breaks the silence.

"I'm scared of losing contact," he tells them, very earnestly. "I know I'll go to college but I can't ever imagine having friends like you again in my life."

Clementine has heard it before – the whispered suggestion of loneliness in the ice cream parlour, when he spoke of Marlon and Brody’s road trip.

"Man," says Marlon, with a chuckle, "don't be goin' soft."

But his voice is low and tender. Clementine doesn't miss when Brody squeezes his hand.

Violet still holds fast to hers.

"I'm being serious," says Louis. "D'you think we'll all remember – when we're all split up – about being here and tonight?”

"I'm gonna remember," Brody tells him firmly. She's staring at the sky with an unreadable expression. "No matter where we are, we're sleeping under the same sky."

"Won't see another like it," says Omar. “And for what it’s worth–"

“You’re really out of your mind,” says Aasim, “if you think we’re gonna disappear.”

Louis laughs softly. Clementine wants to answer but feels that she and Mariana have very little to add that could aid or comfort, however much they’re now included. Still, she feels it deeply and that stifles any amusement when Ruby wipes her eyes on the back of her hand, and says thickly,

“Stop it, now you've made me cry!"

Violet huddles closer. 

"I wish we could stay up here forever," she says.

Although her voice is quiet, there's a collective murmur as it reaches the others. Marlon pulls Brody back against his chest, and Omar nudges Aasim with a nod to Ruby. Violet's fingers squeeze a little tighter.

It's hard to believe that Clementine has only known these people for a matter of weeks. From way up here, standing together on the hill, Clementine truly feels they could set the world to rights. She might only be young, and her new friends not too much older, but she thinks this is what Uncle Kenny most likely envisions when they sing praise to God in church. She'd like to believe her parents watch a similar sunset every day and that they can see it now.

However misplaced, Clementine also wants more than anything to slip her chin beneath Violet's. If she were to lean just a little to the right, Violet would for sure feel the whisper of hair against her neck, but Clementine knows better than to push her luck. She's held Mariana's hand on countless occasions before; cuddled together on the sofa and pressed herself to Mariana's shaking back beneath the duvet, on the night her grandmother passed away. But this is different. 

Mariana is her best friend, ever in the world, and Violet...

Violet has inspired a whole new set of emotions within Clementine, and when she catches her eye, Violet's lips turn into a sombre smile. Clementine does everything in her power to resist the urge, again, to kiss her.

"Why don't we?" she asks, and Violet lets out a chuckle.

A short distance away, Brody is sighing in Marlon's arms and Louis is guiding Mariana's pointed finger to where he wants her to look – out towards the horizon, over the minuscule farm buildings and hay bales, towards the quivering slither of sun. Even Ruby is giggling through her tears as Omar pulls her and Aasim together for a photograph.

"I didn't mean right here on the hill," says Violet.

"Hey," says Clem, "and neither did I."

She means with their friends; with Violet especially. She wishes she could photograph, or else memorise, exactly the look on Violet's face; the soft wash of her skin in the evening light; the blade of grass that's clinging to her hair.

Clementine reaches up instead to pull it away.

She swears, if only for a moment, that Violet's eyes dilate in the middle when they meet. Violet's breath escapes in a soft whoosh of air and Clementine's stomach does a flip inadvertently.

"Shoulda thought to bring the tents,” says Violet, and laughs as if to front. "'Cept Brody mighta killed us, had we pulled 'em way up here."

"Yeah," says Clem.

How she wishes things were different.

If Violet only knew, if Clementine only could tell her, how desperately she’d longed for something like this. If Violet had no obligations, if Minnie were simply a figment of Clementine’s imagination, the possibilities she thinks would stretch out before them. Clementine is positive – she's absolutely certain – that it's not the perfect time yet still she can't help but envision Violet's head between her thighs, her hands pressing down on Clementine’s hips. She pictures their grass-stained elbows, their kiss-bitten lips, and feels the telltale burn light up in her cheeks a moment before Violet, in reality, turns her gaze away. 

Clementine suspects regardless it’s written all over her face. She doesn’t know if she’s still supposed to feel guilty for hoping that Violet likes her too.

"Are you okay?" she asks, and Violet nods.

"I'm thinkin'," says Violet, "about the road trip we'll take."

Clementine grins. When Violet looks back, the smile that's stretched across her face warms Clementine from the inside out.

"I promise we'll watch the sunset every single night," she says. "We'll sit out beneath the stars, we'll eat Smores around the fire, drink tequila 'til we vomit–"

"No," says Clem, "no more tequila!"

"Come on," says Violet, "have a lil' fun."

"I am having fun," Clementine tells her, "always with you."

Violet rolls her eyes, but the smile hits them too. Clementine tightens her grip on Violet’s hand, and they wait until the last of the sunshine has disappeared below the horizon. Eventually, and breaking the serenity, comes the call from Marlon:

"Alright, who's got a damn flashlight?"

Indeed it's almost dark, by the time they retreat to the bottom of the hill. The return trip is slower, as they pick their way through the brambles and can't quite place their feet. The fireflies serve only to confuse them, mating in the bushes, flickering in and out of the trees ahead. Clementine yawns and everyone follows suit.

Some of them have brought pyjamas – Ruby, being one, brings out matching red gingham from her backpack before she bids them goodnight. The rest sit up for a while longer, chatting in the darkness, until Brody almost nods off on Marlon's shoulder and everyone decides to call it a day. Sleeping arrangements, after all, turn out quite in the way that Marlon had planned, with the exception of Aasim who takes a place in Clementine's tent. The handful of blankets are passed around, and everyone settles down.

"Goodnight," says Mariana.

Her smile is fond and secretive as she slips into the tent. There's a chorus from all around them, and Clementine retreats and pulls down the zipper.

"This is the first time I've been camping," says Violet, as Clementine settles on her side.

She tucks her hoodie beneath her head, and Violet throws the blanket over them. They have wedged Clementine's phone between the side of the tent and their water bottle, so that the beam from the flashlight magnifies and fills up the entire space. Now the compartment is bathed in faint, cool light and it smells like dried clay and polyurethane. Clementine counts it up to four years, in her head, since she'd last spent a night out like this.

"I remember," she says. "I used to go all the time. Not with Lee – with my uncle."

"D'you still see him?"

"Oh, yeah," says Clem. "He's building a treehouse at the minute, for AJ when his arm's better. He and Lee have been friends since like forever."

She brings her curled fist to rest comfortably in front of her face.

Violet's eyes follow the movement.

They can hear Louis and Mariana giggling and whispering softly in the next compartment over. It's difficult to remember, now they're in here, that the tent isn't soundproof; that everyone else can still hear everything they say. Clementine can even catch the rumble of Marlon's laughter from across the clearing. But the compartment feels safe and private, even with the glare of the flashlight. Nothing will touch them, and no one can judge them, as long as they're here.

Violet's fingers brush gently over the top of Clementine's knuckles.

"I've never thanked you," she says. Her voice is whisper quiet. "For givin' us all the time of day."

"What?" says Clem.

"Ya," says Violet. "I never expected to see you again. And then you showed up at the store – bought those damn cigarettes for my mom –"

"You thanked me the same day."

"No, from all of us," says Violet. "It's unusual, see, to make friends outside of Ericson. It doesn't happen like this. But you came back."

"So?" says Clem.

She knows what it means, but it hurts to admit. It's the reason she'd driven Mariana past Louis' house all those weeks ago before they'd ever met.

"I don't have loads of friends, you know," she says. "It was nice to be included."

A zipper whirrs from further down the tent. There's a scuffling of fabric, and someone hisses,

"Sssh!"

Louis, from next door, whispers none-too-subtly, "Who the fuck is that?"

And a laugh from Omar floats from the end of the tent.

Violet doesn't move.

"Sorry," says Clementine. Suddenly she feels like she ought to be honest. "I know how it is. Not everyone gets it."

"You didn't care at all."

"Not in the way I was supposed to, I guess."

Violet's smile is small but thankful.

"We talked about it, sure," she says. "Didn't know if you'd fit in – even Marlon, the day after we met you, just wanted to like you 'cause his best friend did and 'cause Brody kept sayin',  _ 'what's the problem, why's she different?'  _ Took like a week for everyone to warm up to the idea."

"Different," says Clem.

"You  _ weren't _ any different," says Violet. "That's why it was special."

"Does Minnie think I'm different?"

Violet opens her mouth. Clementine regrets her words almost instantly. There's a pause, and Violet slowly brings her hand back to side, tucking it beneath the blanket out of Clementine's reach.

"That was stupid," Clementine tells her. "I'm sorry, ignore me."

"It's difficult," says Violet. Her voice has dropped even lower. "She isn't who – I don't really wanna talk about her –"

"No," says Clementine, "it's fine, I get it."

She doesn't want to talk about Minnie either; doesn't know why she brought it up. After a moments silence, staring at each other awkwardly across the tent, Violet says,

"Maybe we should go to sleep."

And Clementine nods. She reaches for her phone, turning off the flashlight. Her elbow collides with Violet's shoulder on the way back down but both of them ignore it, and they lie in the dark listening to the voices in the other compartments. No one is loud enough for Clementine to make out an exact conversation, except for Louis and Mariana simply by proximately, who seem to be talking about movies. She thinks she can hear Aasim's voice too, however faintly.

Eventually, after what seems like an age, lying stiffly on her back and trying not to move, Violet's fingers touch the side of Clementine's arm. Neither girl says a word, but they shuffle closer into the centre of the compartment and Clementine brings her arm up around Violet's shoulders.

"Honestly," says Louis, "it's supposed to be good."

"You told me that  _ The Room _ was supposed to be good," says Mariana, "so I'm not sure I trust you."

Violet's fingers curl into the front of Clementine's t-shirt.

"Okay?" she whispers, like a prayer into the darkness.

Clementine props her chin up above Violet's head.

"Yeah," she murmurs, "that's okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now is another ideal time to give a big, big thanks to my beta Lauren, one of my nearest and dearest, who has been nothing but supportive throughout this entire process. She's had to put up with my, “oh hey can u just proof read this chapter” requests at 2am and “okay what’s this specific word that I'm thinking of?” questions on the regular since this fic began.
> 
> Please visit her at [MarsFlameSniper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarsFlameSniper) if you get the chance, and definitely check out her Stranger Things fic - which I'm enjoying immensely.


	9. Keep On The Sunny Side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is a short one! As usual, thanks for continued support, comments, kudos and the rest.

"I think I slept on a rock or somethin'," says Marlon, with a stretch, as he crawls out of the tent the following morning. "Christ, I've remembered why we don't do this every weekend."

"Do you want eggs?" asks Omar.

Marlon groans and tries to crack everything back into place.

"What?" he says. "Uh, no – fuck – not yet."

Clementine grins. She figures she's been awake for little over an hour and her stomach is rumbling. It had taken almost ten minutes to shake the pins and needles out of her arm when she first came round, rolling Violet off from on top of her as she sat up, and when Violet too had woken she’d merely smiled at Clem and asked how she’d slept. Now Violet has taken a bottle of water and her toothbrush up to the visitor centre toilets and Omar – who'd woken before them – has started on making the breakfasts. Clementine has decided not to mention how closely wrapped around her Violet had been the night before, and as of yet Omar hasn’t mentioned overhearing any of their in-tent conversations.

The eggs in the pan snap and crackle, as Omar prods them with a tong, and Marlon asks,

"Fuck, what time is it?"

“Early, I think,” says Omar. “Sun was just rising, when I got up.”

“It is,” says Clem. “Look at the sky – 8 am or so, at latest."

“How’d you know that?”

Clementine could explain, but she doesn’t get the chance. She opens her mouth, but there’s a loud groan from behind her which startles them all quite abruptly. The zip of the tent comes down and Louis all but falls through the flap out onto the dirt, squinting against the morning light.

Marlon starts to laugh.

"Warm, were you?" he asks with a grin as Louis lifts himself up.

Their friend is barefoot, shirtless and there's a lovebite in the shape of Mariana's mouth forming darkly at the base of his neck.

"Shruup," says Louis. "Nothing you haven't done."

He yawns widely as he stumbles across the camp, beginning to search through Aasim's backpack for something to drink. 

"Really?" says Marlon.

Omar is smirking. “What haven’t you done, then, huh?”

"Dude,” groans Louis.

And Marlon keeps grinning.

"Louis, I swear, if you've lost your virginity overnight in that tent –"

"Come on, you know me better than that!”

"S'not really my style," says Mariana.

Her sleep-tussled head and shoulders poke out from inside the tent. She's smiling as she rubs her eyes and reaches for her shoes in the doorway. At least the mystery of Louis' shirt has now been solved – it hangs, two sizes too big, loosely from her shoulders.

"I'd want it to be romantic."

"Is the tent not romantic?" asks Marlon. "Brody," he calls, slapping at the fabric on the front of the two-man, "tell them the tent's romantic."

“Leave it,” says Louis. He cracks open a can of lemonade. “When I do, Keifer, swear to God you’ll be the last to know–"

“Oh, that’s not very nice!”

“Boys,” giggles Mariana. She pulls herself up, stretching as she goes, and pushes Louis lightly in the shoulder as she takes the can for the first swig.

“You see,” says Louis, “what I live with.”

“Don’t take his side,” Marlon warns.

“When you’ve all finished–"

“Okay, but where’s Ruby?”

Clementine looks around. She’s been halfway through accepting a plate with the eggs and a slightly stale bread roll on it from Omar, but pauses in time to glance towards the one-man tent. She sees now, although she hasn’t noticed earlier, that the front is completely undone. Ruby isn’t inside, and Clementine hasn’t seen her all morning.

“Maybe she’s getting dressed?” she suggests, finally taking the plate.

Marlon snorts. He’s shaking his head.

“Nah,” he says, “she sleeps late.”

He too is now staring at Ruby’s empty tent, as is Mariana. Louis takes the first step, approaching with caution as if expecting that she might actually just be hiding and leap out to scare them all at any moment.

“Not here,” he says, in case there was any debate.

“Yeah, well spotted,” scoffs Marlon. “Brody, are you comin’ out or what?”

“In a minute!”

“We’ve lost Ruby.”

“Lost her,” chuckles Omar.

Clementine catches his eye. He’s grabbed another two eggs and is working on the next batch, but there’s a coy smile playing on the corners of his mouth.

“Where is she?” whispers Clem.

Across from them, Louis is stalking carefully around the outside of Ruby’s tent and Brody’s head has appeared in the doorway of hers. Marlon is looking down.

"Have you seen her?"

"I've been with you the entire time!" she tells him.

Omar says, “I wanted to let them work it out. It shouldn’t be hard.”

And then Clementine hears, from behind them, a shuffling in the tent. There are hushed whispers and, although she can't make out the words, she recognises the voices. 

Clementine glances over her shoulder.

“She's with Aasim...” she says quietly.

Omar doesn't answer, but the grin on his face is explanation enough. He flips the eggs, reaches for a plate and Clementine almost chokes on the bite of bread she takes when Louis says, perplexed,

"Well... she can't have gone far."

"Come on," says Brody, looking suddenly towards Clementine, "what do you know?"

"Nothing," says Clem quickly, although it's difficult to keep a straight face when Omar is sniggering into his shoulder.

"Don't start," says Marlon.

"No," says Mariana, "I know that look!"

"What about Violet?" Clementine asks, determined to draw the subject. "Why's no one asked about her?"

"Come off it," says Marlon. "Why're you there?"

"Violet's my roommate," Brody tells her. "First things first, brushes her teeth, every morning. Plus, all thing's considered, you mighta told us if something was wrong."

"Guys," says Omar, "open your eyes."

"Hang on –"

Louis looks up. He strides back into the middle of the clearing, looking at Clementine, looking at Omar, and taking in the distance between Ruby's tent and theirs.

"Dude," he says, "are you real?"

"What?" asks Marlon.

There's a short silence. No one moves. Clementine's ribs are shaking with flippant, pent-up laughter and Omar nudges her in the arm with a grin. Then, there's a loud sigh and the zip on Aasim's compartment is tugged pointedly open.

"For goodness sake," says Ruby, as her ginger hair emerges from inside. "Here, let me out!"

"Ruby!" cries Brody.

"I knew it!" says Louis.

Ruby stumbles to her feet, still fully dressed, gingham pyjamas intact, and marches over to her tent. Aasim looms behind her, and now Clementine really starts to laugh with Omar in sync. Louis is smirking. He elbows Mariana who looks confused, but not nearly as much as Marlon whose mouth is half-open.

"I thought we were jokin'..." he says, as Ruby grabs for her bag.

"I'm going to get cleaned up!" she says, matter-of-factly, and turns on her heel to leave.

Marlon looks after her.

"I told you," says Omar, "it's a couples camping trip."

Aasim tuts loudly and tugs the zipper back down on the compartment.

When Violet returns a short while later, everyone is itching to tell her.

"Oh good," she says, as she throws down her washbag, "everyone's awake."

Brody doesn't hesitate. She's placed herself on the ground beside Marlon and their tent, whilst Louis is tucking into breakfast. Mariana, after asking ten thousand questions about the history between Ruby and Aasim, is now helping Omar with the cooking.

"Did you see Ruby?"

"What?" says Violet. "Sure, in pyjamas."

"No," says Brody. "Ruby spent last night in  _ Aasim's _ side of the tent."

" _ Oh _ ," says Violet. And she laughs. "That's why she looks so angry?"

“We thought she was missing,” says Marlon. “Tent was wide open. And these two idiots...” He gestures to Clementine and Omar. “They knew all along!”

“How did  _ you _ know?” Violet asks. 

Clementine grins. “Guessed,” she says.

Omar explains, “I heard Ruby come in, right after everyone else got settled.”

“I didn’t hear,” says Louis.

“No,” says Violet. “You two were flirting.”

Then she looks at him properly.

"Louis," she says, "is that a fuckin' lovebite?"

"I love camping trips," says Clementine.

She really doesn't want to leave, but with all good things, there must come an end. A couple of hours later, when they've eaten the last of the food and Marlon – for some reason – has decided that the safest way to transport the last can of beer home is in his stomach, they pack up the tents and sidle back to the parking lot.

Aasim had helped them to take down the tent; even started to laugh and turned red when Louis whispered something into his ear.

"Okay," says Clementine, as Marlon, Brody and Louis flock automatically to his truck, "does anyone need a ride?"

Marlon slings his tent and Ruby's into the truck bed.

"Nah," says Ruby, who's mood has improved significantly since the early morning, "I live too far out. I'm gonna hop in the back with Marlon, for as far as he'll take me, then give Grandpops a call and he'll come get me."

"Alright," says Clem. "Aasim?"

Aasim is going with Marlon as well, and Omar says he's happy to walk home; would prefer it, in fact, he tells her. That leaves only Violet, and Mariana of course – but at this stage in their friendship, Clementine considers driving Mariana as on par with bringing AJ home from school.

"To the bus stop?" she asks Violet instead, as Mariana kisses Louis goodbye through the window of Marlon's truck.

"Ya," says Violet. "The bus stop'd be good, unless..."

She pauses. Clementine watches as Violet's forehead creases into a frown, and her hand twitches subconsciously to pull at her sleeve. Then she says,

"Unless you wanna hang out?"

Clementine wants to scream. She doesn't, but she knows her face has lit up like a firework as Violet begins to grin.

"S'that a yes?" she asks.

"Yes!" says Clem. "Come on, just hop in the front – you can call shotgun, Mari won't mind!"

Violet snickers, pulling open the passenger door and climbing into the car. Clementine decides to start the engine early, just in case there are problems; in case Marlon drives off and the engine won't fire, and they're stuck without a jumpstart, a working phone or anyone to help. Luckily, Rosie grumbles moodily into life. The clock on the dashboard shows that it's quarter past eleven.

"Hey," says Violet, "so..."

She reaches into her satchel.

"I didn't know when to give you this, 'cause like, everyone's been so busy, and when we've been alone it's just not been right, y'know?"

And she brings out a small plastic cassette.

Clementine takes it, turning it over in her hands. It's a mixtape, she sees, double-sided, in translucent red casing. Violet has written the names of all of the songs that she's copied onto it in minuscule writing on the tracklist, and titled it  _ Clementine Vol 1 _ . First artist: Bruce Springsteen.

"Don't read into it too much," Violet warns. "Or, I mean, you can, but..."

"Thank you," says Clem, feeling her smile spread wide. "Should we put it on now?"

"Sure," says Violet.

And Clementine raises it. As she stares at the dash, she realises suddenly that whilst she might have a vague idea of how these things are supposed to work, she's never had to use the cassette player in her life. She turns the cassette over again, trying to decide which way she should slide it into the player.

"Oh..." she mumbles and her cheeks go red.

Violet laughs softly.

"Here," she says, and reaches out. Her fingers close over Clementine's for longer than necessary. "You put it in like this. You gotta rewind when you've played both sides."

There is a brief hissing sound, the  _ srtch srtch  _ of film on plastic, the clicking of a mechanism somewhere in the car and then, the sweet first beats of  _ Dancing In The Dark _ fill the interior and Clementine laughs gleefully.

"It isn't much," says Violet, looking into her lap. "I've told you I'm grateful and... well, I thought you might like it. I couldn't decide which of my mom's tapes to bring so for now, I've just kinda made a selection."

"I love it," says Clementine.

I love you, she thinks. And it isn't that serious, is far too early for anything like that, but if Clementine could she'd hold Violet's hand in the car all of the way home.

The back door opens and Mariana climbs in.

"Is this on the radio?"

"No," says Clem. "Violet's made me a mixtape."

Mariana says nothing. She's burning a hole into the back of Clementine's skull, but Clementine acts natural; as if there's nothing out of the ordinary, and pips her horn as she waves at Marlon and the others and pulls out of the parking lot. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see the suggestion of a smile lifting the corners of Violet's mouth, but the other girl keeps her gaze fixed purposefully on the window ahead.

Of  _ course _ she's going to read into it.

Clementine plans to take the cassette right back home and pour over the tracklist – an idea that is only solidified as Springsteen fades into Clapton and then Zeppelin as they're speeding along the highway. She knows for a fact that Mariana will give her an earful for it the next time they're alone together, but the thought alone makes her giddy.

"I don't know any of this," Mariana pouts, as familiar trees and street signs start to rise on either side of the car.

"You will," says Violet, "soon enough."

"With Louis' music collection?" jeers Mariana. "I don't think so!"

And Violet just laughs.

Clementine knows she can't be the only one in the car to draw the parallel between Mariana and Louis, and herself and Violet. She even considers the possibility of just leaning right over, when she pulls up in front of Mariana's house, and kissing Violet right there and then – and only doesn't, because her morals are stronger.

They climb out of the Mustang, and Mariana says,

"Alright, if my dad asks, we've been no further than the lake!"

In the end, she only stays home for long enough to change her clothes. They find David in the hallway, pacing back and forth aimlessly while he talks on the phone and Kate in the kitchen, who chides them half-heartedly for trekking dirt all over the rug. Mariana's shoes come straight from her feet and into the sink and Kate pulls at the pine needles in her hair. She doesn't believe, she says, for a minute that there are fir trees by the lake and Mariana wriggles away.

"I heard Javi got his own place," says Clem, for distraction as Mariana shuts the bathroom door.

"Oh," says Kate, "yeah, he did."

She sounds less happy than perhaps she should. She tells Clementine that he's doing a lot better, that they've managed to get on top of his debts and if he's lucky, Javi might even be able to coach one of the local school's baseball teams.

"Things can only get better," she says.

Clementine nods sympathetically.

When Mariana reappears, in a clean pair of shorts and with her hair free of debris, Kate pushes them back into the sun. She tells Mariana to stay out of trouble, specifically –

"On this side of town!"

– which Mariana agrees to with a grin and roll of her eyes.

"You'd think I was a child," she giggles, as they all climb back into Clementine's car. "Lee never cares! And my dad lets Gabe go anywhere he wants."

"Yeah," says Clem, "well Gabe's starting college."

"Gabe got lost of the way back from school once," says Mariana, "and they're still talking about buying him a car!"

"Could be worse," says Violet.

Clementine rolls down the window.

"They could ask him to pay for it."

The joke flies over Mariana's head, but Clementine snickers. The journey back to hers in spent listening to Mariana's complaints of being the younger sibling with one ear and the gentle lull of Dire Straits over the car stereo with the other. Violet speaks a little more freely and it's nice. It's as if the three of them are good friends, instead of being divided by grades and schools and families, especially when Violet recalls a time in years gone by when she'd started to ask about babies and knowing that the stork didn't bring them.

They're laughing again when they pull into the driveway.

In the garden, Violet meets Uncle Kenny. He’s sweating under the sun with Lee as they make the finishing touches to the treehouse, while AJ dashes in circles excitedly around their feet. Lee keeps saying that he has paperwork to mark, and Clementine knows there are her final pieces of homework, but neither take it further than a mention for the rest of the afternoon. Kenny even brings popsicles – hidden, he says, in the back of the freezer upon his arrival – before treating everyone to an Indian takeout for dinner.

“Well,” he says, smacking his lips at the end of the meal, “that’s the treehouse completed! D'ya have any plans for my tent over summer?"

Clementine says that she might. Kenny lets her hold onto it.

Lee passes a neat pile of freshly ironed, folded clothes over to Violet – the ones that she'd left in the drier the previous weekend.

"Seems like we'll be seein' a lotta you," he tells her happily. "But I figured, being such a fan of classic rock, you might want that band shirt back."

Violet doesn't have to say a word to show she appreciates it.

Later in the evening, Kenny offers to drive both her and Mariana home.

"I'll take the ride," says Mariana. "You know I'm en route, but Violet..."

"Can drive with me," says Clementine quickly. "Is your bag still in my car?"

Violet says it is. She bids her goodbyes, hugs AJ a little awkwardly and fist bumps Lee on her way out of the door. Clementine takes her dutifully back to the bus stop off the 441.

"I'll see ya," says Violet. "And," she adds, "text me, alright?"

Clementine nods.

"You don't have to ask," she tells her.

Again, Lee is waiting for the moment she comes back through the door.

"Clem," he says, "are you sure that girl really isn't single?"

"I am," says Clementine, "unfortunately."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And lo and behold, [here's](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/43BnFy4RC0COCFbDi0YNFX?si=6BHmutt9SG2v_nxfQItMoQ) the mixtape, featuring some of the biggest songs by these artists.


	10. Monday

  
_My clothes smell like ur house_ , texts Violet.

_Oh yeah?_ replies Clementine. _I suppose Lee washed them afterall._

It's Monday morning.


	11. Tuesday

"Please pass all of your diaries to the front of the classroom," instructs the teacher. "In a moment I'll be returning your report cards!"  
  
Clementine attains a middling score of Bs and above. She thinks that a C in her Spanish elective is hardly fair at all, but spends less time focusing on this than she does on the A beside PE and, in particular, the B+ next to Math.  
  
Mariana hangs over her shoulder.  
  
"I guess Dad'll be pleased that I passed First Aid," she says casually, and then, "Hey, that's amazing - weren't you getting Ds in Math last year?"  
  
Violet says that Math is the only thing she's ever excelled in.  
  
Lee tacks the report card up next to AJ's drawing on the front of the refrigerator. It's still only Tuesday evening.


	12. Wednesday

Wednesday afternoon.  
  
A paper aeroplane thwops into the side of Clementine's head as she's yawning and the History teacher is searching the cupboards for the customised edition of _Guess Who?_  
  
Clementine's phone vibrates on her lap beneath the desk.  
  
_Someone's driven the Headmaster’s car into a tree,_ says Violet.  
  
And Jessica is leaning imploringly, apologetically, over to Clementine's desk. A piece of bubblegum clacks loudly behind her.  
  
"There are better ways of passing notes," whispers Clementine, as she hands her the crumpled aeroplane.


	13. Thursday

  
Thursday.  
  
_Have u thought abt tping the sports sheds?_


	14. Friday

Three, two, one.

Clementine watches as the numbers on her phone screen flip neatly to 00:00 Friday morning. She smiles sleepily into her pillow and thinks to herself,

This is the last day of school.

Violet's text, that arrives after only a moment, reads very simply,

_ Welcome to summer. _


	15. Author's Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi thanks for checking in I'm still a piece of garbage ~

Hi all!

I didn't want to have to post this but I've been low-key super stressed about this fic and the upcoming chapter.

I've been feeling a bit... tragic, as of late, and unable to face the prospect of editing or worse writing something that is supposed to be upbeat and entertaining. I've found it hard, I think, to envision or feel the same sort of longing as Clementine for a fun-filled summer, what with this year just being an absolute shit show.  
  
If you follow me as opposed to just this story, you'll know I have written other things in the meantime and am definitely still active. The difference of course is that everything I've written or been reading has been absolutely dismal, angst-ridden, and generally at complete odds with the whole premise of this fic. It's been difficult to keep going and to find motivation when in truth I've been feeling a little down and out. The weather in my part of the UK has also been absolutely godawful since my last post and, as someone who like Clementine was also supposed to have a camping trip with friends this year, before Covid struck, and am currently now struggling to remember how to actually _have_ friends (in real life, as opposed to via text), it's been a really unfortunate reminder that 2020 was supposed to be a really exciting year for me. Instead, all I have done is work, gain weight and kill a few house plants.

This all sounds like a cry for help, but I promise you it isn't! I just wanted to let those of you who are still around know that I haven't abandoned this fic, and actually... the first draft of the entire story _is_ complete. I'm reworking some bits and pieces and trying to snap myself back into a positive mindset.

Please watch this space. Thanks for your patience!

Alexa, play _Everyday Is Like Sunday_ by Morrissey.


	16. In The Space Of A Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, thanks for bearing with me through the past couple of months.
> 
> As it turns out, the biggest thing that was holding me back - aside from myself, of course - was actually the first draft. I'm not entirely sure what happened, but one evening I suddenly had the realisation, "Oh, I'll do x, instead of y!" and thus started again on this chapter, rewriting it completely from the beginning. I was really pleased to get back into this and not feel like I was putting out absolute trash. The downfall of course is that I'm now having to alter the subsequent chapter/s but rest assured that I'm feeling positive; that this is the first time in months that I've actually had an idea come to me organically, instead of trying to force creativity out of my husk of a brain.
> 
> I've also gone back to edit small mistakes and switch up a few pieces of dialogue to tie in to these later chapters. The bare bones were always there but they needed a bit of work. It's nothing particularly life-changing, so you shouldn't need to reread!
> 
> As a final note, I'm not 100% sure on how American school grades work or when you take your exams - I just have a loose idea of them being on the last day of term, for the record which is crazy to me. At least I know for a fact that it's different to the UK, but that being said it's 9 years since I left high school so let's ignore any glaring errors!

The last day of term passes in a blur.

It's very warm – Clementine feels the sun even before she opens her curtains and is dazzled by the rays, burning down over the manicured lawns and gardens of her neighbourhood, and the bright cerulean blue of the sky.

Lee is in an extraordinarily good mood. He's loading ice into the freezer when she arrives in the kitchen and wears his shirt with the cuffs unfastened and pushed up to his elbows. Apparently, he says, he'll be able to relax all day – keep the door unlocked for the students who need to drop off their final papers and then go for a celebratory drink with the rest of the History department. Clementine is sweating before she's even made it out of the door. She has to dodge an excitable AJ who's decided to wear a superhero costume for the grand total of four hours that he'll be spending in school (specifically in the playground).

She jumps into her car, cranks open the windows and, upon pulling into the parking lot, has already started to fantasize about the long days of summer that lie ahead of her.

Mariana looks beautiful. Not much is new. Her long hair ripples against the soft cream cotton of her sweatshirt and smells like strawberry shampoo, when Clementine hugs her, and she's wearing the same shade of red lipstick that she had on the night of the first party.

"They've flooded the girl's bathrooms," she says, with a hint of amusement, as she drags Clementine off towards the lockers.

They stand watching the commotion of quite some time.

Soap-suds are pouring into the hallway. Many of the younger students are screaming and jumping through them; some of the seniors have pushed up their sleeves and are grabbing handfuls to thwack into their friend’s faces. Gabe happens to be one amongst them.

"Did the kids at Ericson do this sorta shit to their school on Wednesday?" asks Mariana, and Clementine snorts.

"Huh," she says, "the kids at Ericson did a lot worse."

And that's only the beginning.

Clementine and Mariana have barely made it to the top of the stairs to reach their first class when the fire alarm blares out across the building. Cries echo from another distant part of the school as the sprinklers go off overhead. The courtyard below quickly fills with an array of sniggering, giggling, soaking wet students and teachers who are trying their best to confiscate non-essential items.

_ It's happening _ , writes Clementine in a text to Violet.  _ Chaos at last. _

There isn't much in the way of actual education, even when eventually the all-clear is given and the students are ushered back inside. Aside from their standard last day exams, Clementine spends most of her morning listening to their teachers' recollections of school years gone by and, in History, Mrs James all but admits defeat, loads  _ Bill & Ted  _ up on her laptop and connects it to the projector. She has to call for one of the boys to help her close all of the pop-ups and makes the class swear that, if anyone asks, she'd found the movie quite legally online.

By lunchtime, the foam has still not been cleared from the hallway. AJ, when Clementine picks him up, asks why her shoes are covered in bubbles.

"Because," she tells him, "when you're at high school, the only way you get to finish early is if someone floods out the building."

AJ doesn't understand. He tells her instead about how fun it's been playing outside all day and itches subconsciously at the well-inked cast that's still on his arm. Clementine suggests that he draw his adventures as she's pulling up outside Barbara's house, where the old lady is waiting already out in the garden, and definitely to include his cape.

"And you," says AJ happily, "and Violet, and the zoo."

"Yeah," says Clem. "Be good for B, now, alright? I'll see you tomorrow."

"Clem," he says, as he slips out of the car, "I'm always good, remember?"

"Whatever, goofball."

Then it's back to school.

Unfortunately, there's little to note in the last few hours, save for a couple of seniors who are let out of class earlier than their companions whooping and hollering as they run down the corridors. No one hijacks the headteacher's car, nor TPs the sports sheds, and Clementine finds she's almost disappointed. At least the benefit is that they finish on time and Mariana comes skipping out into the parking lot.

" _ Hola _ ," she cries, " _ vamos de fiesta _ !"

"Snacks," says Clementine, "first of all."

Their Friday evenings won't be all that different, Clementine knows now, even with Louis in the picture; even with Violet, hovering around the edges, and Marlon and Brody and the rest of the gang, despite the fact that it's been Clem and Mariana by themselves for years. They're slow at getting out of the parking lot, what with the mass of excitable students also trying to leave the school, but it's okay – it gives Mariana a chance to bring out her phone and start Googling the different places and attractions that they'll be able to visit in the upcoming months.

"There's the aquarium," she says, "and maybe we could go to Disneyland –"

"You expect me to  _ drive _ to Orlando?"

"Well, maybe not in this old car, but I think you could do it." 

"It's six hours!"

"Serious, I'll put in for gas! Or we'll get Greyhound. Kate talks about it all the time, it wouldn't be hard – ooh, look at this –"

"Mari, I'm driving!"

"Just throwin' out ideas. Come on, this our chance. The first day of summer is officially here. We're gonna kiss hot guys – girls – whatever, we're gonna get our nails done, we're gonna spend every minute as if it's our last!"

Clementine is laughing.

"You're so dramatic!" she says, and Mariana grins.

She rolls down the window and throws out her hand.

"Feel the breeze," she says, "turn up the music! Wait, is this still the tape?"

"The what?" asks Clem.

"Jeez!" says Mariana. "Y'know, some would say it’s kinda romantic, Violet making you a playlist and all.”

“Shut up,” says Clementine happily. "It's a compilation."

"That's not what you said before," says Mariana. "She coulda done it on Spotify, she coulda done it on Youtube but no, girl had to go old school and really chisel into that bit of your heart, really get you twisted!"

"Twisted?"

Clementine snorts, but she only half-heartedly attempts to bat Mariana’s hands away from the volume dial.

“What,” says Mariana, “you don’t think she thought of you, huh, when she added this song?  _ Come on, baby, gimme just one look _ – what’s all that about?”

“It’s her mom’s!” says Clementine.

“Sure,” says Mariana. “Of course it is. I’m telling you, something's gonna happen.”

“Hey, whatever!”

“You wish it would."

"I'll stop the car."

"What, and throw me out? Try it, bitch, you'll never get it started again."

They’re still giggling when they pull up to the convenience store and push their way inside. Shawn, as usual, isn't behind the counter. The radio is playing softly from beside the till and the bell tinkles in the doorway, but he doesn't appear.

"If I was half a good a person," says Mariana, "I'd take the chips and run."

"David would love that," Clementine tells her, "with all the CCTV? You'd be famous as Javi."

"Wow," says Mariana, "you're not above that, huh? Y'know, I'm kinda craving pizza."

"Did I ever tell you about meeting Violet here?"

They keep their voices quiet, on the off-chance that Shawn  _ does  _ come back out of the staff room. Clementine might be friends with Violet now, but keeping up appearances means a lot to her and she doesn't want to have to explain that some stupid crush was the reason she vouched. Mariana laughs.

"Yeah," she says, "I remember that fairytale. It really, how would you say, spoke to me? I always wanted to fall in love over cigarettes."

"Not in love," Clementine grumbles.

"Pass me the dip."

Clementine's fingers have barely grazed the sour cream when suddenly a pair of hands collide roughly with the middle of her back. Mariana whirls around, the contents of their basket jumping in her arms and for Clementine, the world spins as her head collides with the shelf.

“What the fuck!”

“I hope you’re happy!” 

“What has she done? Shit, are you okay?”

Mariana grasps her shoulder as Clementine staggers up, trying to right herself and clutching her forehead.

“Minnie?” she says.

She might be hallucinating, but if she isn’t, Clementine is sure that it’s Minnie standing in front of her now, beanie jammed over her red hair despite the heat, anger twisting her usually pretty face into a sour grimace.

“Remembered,” says Minnie, “have you? I knew you’d fuck us all up –"

“What,” cries Clem, “have I done?”

“As if you don’t know.”

She pushes Clementine again, dislodging Mariana’s hand.

“Would you lay off?”

“The camping and the texting, it all makes sense, doesn’t it?” She’s up in Clementine's face. “I bet you were the first she ran to! Having sleepovers, talkin’ about how tapped I am. How you’re so much better. You don’t know shit – ”

“Is this about Violet?”

“My girlfriend,” spits Minnie, “yeah, that’s the one. Or should I say my ex. You fucked me over.”

“I never –"

“Save it!”

Clementine’s back hits the shelf behind her. She’s trapped between Minnie’s tense shoulders and the stacks of guacamole, and Minnie she realises now is so much taller than she’d thought before. Clementine is garbling; she can’t formulate the right words. She doesn’t know what’s happening but Minnie shoves her again.

Mariana cries, “Hey, I said –"

And Minnie reels. She strikes her hard across the face. Mariana had made the mistake of grabbing for her arm, and the force with which Minnie hits her sends her staggering backwards across the aisle. Clementine seizes the opportunity. She ducks beneath Minnie’s outstretched arm and darts towards Mariana, straining to catch her hand and then pulls. The basket clatters to the floor and both girls make a run for the exit.

Distantly, they can hear Shawn shouting after them – confused and startled, after emerging from the back – but Clementine doesn't care. She doesn’t fight. She’s never had to.

“What's she doing?” Mariana is shouting, hot on her heels.

Clementine slams into the side of the car, fumbling with the keys.

“Shit, I dunno, get in, get in!”

She locks the doors behind them, jams the key into the ignition and for once when she’s needed, Rosie doesn’t fail. Minnie is up against the window now, slapping open palms against the passenger door and yelling. Clementine puts her foot down.

“Go,” cries Mariana. “What the fuck?!”

Clementine is breathing hard. She grips the steering wheel tight. She jabs the dial to pause the music, Clapton’s  _ Wonderful Tonight _ , and drives fast away from the store, away from Minnie, leaving her in the dust. In the rearview mirror, she continues to scream and gesture and lands a well-aimed kick at a closely parked car which immediately trips the alarm.

Mariana keeps hold of the handle at top of the car door. She says nothing as Clementine misses a turning and instead merely gives a sidewards glance as Clementine drives without registering the route back towards school, then in circles around the block until she’s finally calmed herself down. Clementine has only met Minnie a total of two times before and whilst she hasn't ever been stupid enough to think that the girl likes her, she's never imagined either that Minnie would attack her in public.

She never thought that anyone would.

As the panic subsides, Clementine feels the beginnings of another unpleasant emotion start to rear its head. Fear warps into confusion and regret and then she's vulnerable, streaking past trees and hedgerows, keeping her eyes locked on the road without really seeing it.

Clementine thinks she’s gonna be sick. She doesn’t know what she’s supposed to do or what she’s supposed to say. All she really wants is to hear Violet's voice and be told that everything’s okay.

Mariana eventually reaches out.

"Clem," she says, "let's go home."

"We didn't get any snacks."

It's hardly her voice. Clementine feels the tears welling up in her eyes as her vision starts to blur but Mariana's hand, squeezing firmly just above her knee, brings her about.

"It's not important," says Mariana. "Just turn around."

In the end, Clementine takes the passenger seat. Mariana says she'll pay the fine, the penalty, or whatever if they got caught because she still doesn't have her licence, but she's taken enough Drivers Ed classes to know that Clementine shouldn't be swerving around in the road like that. Finally, sitting with her knees pressed up beneath her chin, Clementine welcomes the hot spill of tears over her cheeks and makes no attempt to disguise her loud, choking sobs as Mariana drives them home.

When she next looks up, Mariana is turning off the engine.

"We're here," she says quietly. "Not the start to summer we imagined, huh?"

"No," Clementine agrees thickly. She wipes her face with the back of her hand. "I don't even know what I've done."

"Nothing," says Mariana. "You haven't done anything."

Clementine nods. They sit for another few moments while Clementine gets herself together and Mariana watches the shadow that's moving behind the blinds in the kitchen by the sink.

She says irritably, into the silence, "God, I hate girls like her."

"What?" says Clem.

"Minnie," says Mariana. "When everything's  _ your  _ fault and they haven't done a thing. When you've been nothing but civil and they still hate you, for – fuck, what – talking? Having emotions? Fuck that."

She unbuckles her seatbelt.

"Louis told me it wasn't..."

"Go on."

"Nevermind," says Mariana. "Let's just – "

"No," says Clem. She's conscious now and fumbling to grab her hat from the footwell. Mariana is grimacing as if she regrets opening her mouth as she slides out of the driver's seat. "What do you mean?"

"Leave it," says Mariana, "it's none of my business."

"But isn't it mine?"

"Clem..."

"Please!" she says.

She grabs Mariana's arm, who has already made off up the driveway, and spins her around. There's a red welt across the side of Mariana's cheek, where Minnie had caught her. Her lipstick has worn off during the day and leaves a small, pink gap in the centre of her mouth.

"I think you should call Violet," Mariana says eventually. "At least tell her what's happened."

"Yeah," says Clem. "Maybe I should."

When she goes to dial the number, ten minutes later when they're both sitting on Mariana's duvet, there's a long delay filled with only the repeated ring, ring, ring of the telephone in Clementine's ear. The house smells like meatloaf and something sweeter, like apples and cinnamon, that Clementine thinks has only come about because Kate had the misfortune of seeing her face when she arrived in the hallway.

On the first attempt, Violet doesn't answer. It trips to voicemail, unexpectedly, and Clementine ends the call after only a few seconds before she's prompted to leave a message; goes back to her contacts and tries again.

Mariana leans closer into her side.

This time, the line connects. There's a click and Violet's voice comes out of the receiver, low and placid like she hasn't a clue.

"Clem?"

"Violet," Clementine breathes.

There's a pause, and then Violet says,

"What, are you okay?"

"No," says Clementine. She doesn't intend for that to be the first thing that comes out of her mouth. "Something's happened."

"What?" says Violet. "Wait..."

There's a man in the background asking who's on the phone and the television set is mumbling softly. Clementine hears as Violet shrugs him off –

"Ya, I'm goin'. Stop, I know!"

– and pulls herself to her feet, and there's the sound of a door opening and shutting, Clementine believes, behind Violet – metallic, like a campervan or a trailer.

“Where are you?” Clementine asks.

Her heart has begun to race. 

“At home,” says Violet, “uh, I'm outside. We were just havin' dinner. What's goin' on?”

Clementine's breath shakes into the receiver. Mariana nudges her gently and lays her head on Clementine's shoulder, as a silent show of emotional support. Her arm comes up around Clementine's waist, holding on tight. Her fingers are bunched in the fabric of her t-shirt.

"I ran into Minnie," Clementine explains, slowly and carefully.

It's imperative that she say the right things.

"Um... Mariana was with me. We'd gone to the store, you know, Greene's? And – I don't know – she came outta nowhere. Starting... shouting, I guess, yelling at me. She pushed me. Hit Mariana. I – I didn't know what – who – Violet –"

But Violet, on the other end of the phone, has suddenly gone very quiet and very still. Clementine takes a breath, pulling herself together.

"Have you broken up?" she asks.

She has to know.

"Ya," says Violet after a moment. She clears her throat. "Four days ago."

"What?"

"Four – "

"No, I mean, what? You didn't tell me."

"What did you want me to say?"

Silence. Clementine swallows and grips her mobile more tightly. Mariana inhales like she's preparing to hold her breath.

"Shit, Clem, don't do this."

Violet's voice has exploded like a smoke bomb.

"I'm sorry she's been such a dick, okay, but that isn't my fault. I didn't  _ send _ her after you, if that's what you're thinkin'. Minnie does what she wants."

"I didn't mean..." says Clem.

"No," says Violet, "I know, just – ugh!"

Wind rushes across the phone. Clementine's fucked up, somewhere along the lines. Her face feels hot as if she's embarrassed; as if she's humiliated for making such a big deal and for making Violet say it. She shouldn't have called her at all.

"It's not you," Violet tells her. "Just with everythin’ bein’ as it is, with me and Minnie... We weren't gonna last. But that's  _ my _ business, y'know. Mine. And we might be friends, Clem, but I'm not 'bout to spill it all like that, 'specially not now. Not like this."

"I like you," says Clementine brutely.

And she  _ understands  _ – __ it's hardly the most idyllic time for a confession but honestly, she's at a loss for what else to say. She's losing Violet; can hear it in the way her voice waivers over the phone. Clementine feels the words spill out, like vomit, like drinking too much tequila.

"I know," says Violet gently. "I know you do... So does Minnie. So does everyone."

It hurts like another blow to the face. Clementine's jaw is trembling and so is her phone in her hand, even as Mariana squeezes her more tightly, and she knows that if she isn't careful she's going to start to cry again.

"What?" she says.

Her voice is constricted; apparent, perhaps, that she's on the verge of tears.

"Sssh," Mariana whispers. She's rubbing her back now.

Violet sighs.

"Clem, isn't it obvious? Shit, this entire time I've been... tellin' myself it's all in my head, but it's  _ not _ . And Sophie's been – shit, she  _ warned _ me. It's not about you. It's everythin' else. It's ten thousand reasons we wouldn't be good together."

"What d'you mean?"

"Minnie was safe," Violet tells her. "I don't know what to do with a girl like you."

"You said it wasn't different."

"I told Minnie not to worry," says Violet. "And now we're here. And she thinks I've cheated on her or some crap and..."

She takes a deep breath.

"What?" she asks. "What d'you want me to tell you?"

"Nothing..." whispers Clementine.

She wants Violet to hang up the call. She wants her to scream like Minnie had or throw her phone angrily against the floor, but also to stay; to stop saying that Clementine just isn't right in the same breath as neither is Minnie.

"Give me the phone," says Mariana abruptly.

Clementine doesn't have a choice. It's taken out of her hands while her grip is failing and her hands are still shaking, and she barely hears the beginning of Violet's protests before Mariana is clamping the phone to her cheek.

"Hey, it's Mari," she says. "No, Violet, listen... I'm not gonna put her back on... Because she's upset, why'd you think?"

"Mariana, stop it," begs Clementine weakly.

"No," she says, "we're not crying again!"

Mariana stands up from the bed and begins to pace around the room. Clementine wants to get up and follow after her but her legs won't move. She brings up her hands, clasping them together tightly in front of her face instead, and letting her nose rest against the top so that her breath comes out in laboured little puffs.

Mariana is nodding and shaking her head intermittently.

“Yeah, I know... Absolutely... No, and I respect that."

Violet, it seems, is mid-rant on the other end of the line.

"What I'm saying – no, see you're jumping the gun – would you let me finish? She's never said that! ... 'Course I do; doesn't mean you get to be angry with her... Yeah, it's bad timing."

A shiver runs over Clementine's shoulders. It's still so warm, and yet there's a chill that's settled inside of her. She reaches for the duvet to wrap around herself, as Mariana stops in the middle of the room, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Just she’s my best friend, Violet. She's always my first priority."

She comes slowly back over to the side of the bed. Clementine catches sight of the angry red mark that's colouring the side of Mariana's face again and she wants to look away, but she doesn't.

Mariana gives a final nod, looking rather tired, and says,

"I'm gonna hand you over."

The phone hovers for a moment in the space between them but Clementine takes it. Violet is sniffling on the other end.

“Hey,” says Clem.

“Hey,” says Violet. "Listen..."

"It's okay," Clementine tells her. "I'm not very good at this. Lack of experience and all."

"Ya," says Violet. She forces a watery laugh. "I'm gonna speak to Minnie, about... today, y'know... She can't do things like that."

"No."

There's a pause. Something in the background on Violet's end clatters loudly and Clementine hears the man's voice, calling.

"I need to go," Violet tells her.

There's another rush of wind past the phone.

"I am," Violet is shouting now, though her voice is muffled. "I'm  _ sorry _ !"

When her breath next sounds into the receiver, Clementine says,

"Are we okay?"

"Ya," says Violet, "we're good, but I've got –"

"Go," says Clem. "Text me, or something, when you can."

"Alright."

Clementine holds onto the phone for a moment longer after the call disconnects, then slowly, very slowly, she lets her hand slide.  **** Mariana drops onto the bed beside her, falling onto her back.

"Aren't girls supposed to be easier?" she says.

Clementine forces a half-hearted smile.

“How’s your face?” she asks.

"It hurts," says Mariana, with a laugh. She prods with caution at the side of it, searching for bruises. "Don't worry. She got me good, you know, but I wasn't just gonna stand there."

Clementine nods.

"Thanks," she says.

And they lapse back into silence.

It's barely seven o'clock, but somehow it feels like years since Clementine had last waded through the soap suds in the school hallway. The excitement of the morning, even into the afternoon, of the last day of term seems to have abandoned her; the weeks and months spent in anticipation extinguished now like a candle. Mariana's phone buzzes loudly from the inside of her bag across the room but she doesn't move. Clementine stares at it.

She should have been a better friend. Mariana, however, appears to be thinking very little about Clementine's cowardice and more about the pattern on the ceiling.

Kate's voice echoes from the hallway.

"Oh..." Clementine sighs.

"I can bring it in," suggests Mariana, as she sits up, "if you want."

"No," says Clem. "Can't be rude."

"Rude," says Mariana, "please. You can bet Gabe's got his damn skateboard under the table, alright, and anyway, if we're lucky, Dad's gonna be too busy talking about tomorrow's game to notice."

Clementine shakes her head. "I'll come," she says.

And she follows Mariana back out of her bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, Lilly won’t be appearing at all in this fic, however... Back in January, when the idea was first coming together, I envisioned that one of the things that Lee had helped Kenny with was his landlord. Namely, landlord Larry, ex-military, and formidable debt collector disguised-as-daughter, Lilly. Needless to say, it really has no part in this story, but in this world it’s definitely a head canon that’s going on somewhere in the background.
> 
> I really love Lilly as a character tbh, and again, I think that Minnie’s fantastic. There’s a lot to explore with her character in TWD world but unfortunately that boat isn’t sailing in this AU. Every story needs a villain, and as this fic is from Clementine pov, there's little room for her redemption.
> 
> What do we think - is Minnie's dislike for Clementine justified, is everything as black and white as Clementine wants to believe? Is Violet really the villain? HMU, let me know.


	17. Great Divide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alexa, play every single song by Ira Wolf because that's my AU Clementine mood.
> 
> I'm using my lunch break productively at work today, and uploading!

Clementine wakes to three texts and one notification.

The first thing on her mind, when she glares in the light of the screen in the quiet, still darkness of the bedroom, is Violet but needless to say that none of the pop-ups that wait have her name next to them. One, of course, is from Facebook:

' _ Duck  _ ( _ Kenneth Jr.) Hammon mentioned you in a comment'.  _

And two of the texts are from Lee. In the first, sent at 1:42 am, he tells Clementine that he’s had a few too many beers and that he’s so proud to call her his daughter, and in the second he adds on two kisses with a 'c' interspacing them, as if he'd forgotten before he'd pressed send originally.

The third text is from Louis, and Clementine looks at this for only a couple of seconds before turning her phone back over, facedown on the nightstand.

_ Heard about Minnie, hope ure ok xx _

She turns onto her back. Beside her, Mariana is still asleep. Last night Clementine had drifted off with Mariana pressed tightly against her, arms around Clementine's waist as she acted as big spoon. They'd climbed into bed after dinner, thankfully a quiet affair, with large helpings of apple crumble and it's testament to the strength of their friendship that Mariana had made Clementine laugh, for at least a couple of hours, and forget everything that had happened with Violet. They'd watched a couple of movies, straying away from romance, and now the cases for  _ Sean of the Dead _ and  _ Hot Fuzz  _ lie abandoned on the floor beside them, next to the laptop.

It's the first day of summer. The sun is straining through the curtains and it's going to be another hot day. Clementine closes her eyes. She thinks she'd be better waking up in another lifetime when she doesn't have to deal with the consequences of her actions, nor the party which – she remembers with a jolt – is supposed to be tonight. Unfortunately, Mariana isn't content when she comes round to give Clementine much of a choice.

The welt on her face has blossomed spectacularly overnight, into a dark bruise that covers her cheekbone. Mariana pokes at it again in the mirror, then shrugs, and comes back to throw to duvet from off of Clementine and drag her legs until she gets out of bed.

"We're not going to mope," she tells Clementine vigorously. "That isn't who we are!"

It's a blessing in disguise, really.

Kate is making pancakes, with lashings of maple syrup, when Mariana finally convinces Clementine to venture out of the bedroom. Kate has the house phone tucked beneath her chin as she moves from hob to counter, sprinkling blueberries, cutting up strawberries, and is deep in conversation.

"No, I don't think that's unreasonable," she's saying, nodding in recognition as the two girls sit down at the table. "No, he said he was gonna call by later this afternoon."

Mariana pours herself some orange juice.

"Javi," Kate groans, and laughs into the phone. "You know you've gotta try."

"What d'you wanna do?" asks Mariana.

"Do you think there'll be trouble at the party?" Clementine asks, with a grimace. "If I show up, I mean."

Mariana shrugs.

"Why?" she says. "People break up all the time; makes no sense for everyone to fall out about it."

"Still," says Clem, "I wouldn't blame them. I'm the bad guy, right?"

"Wrong. Can you cheer up? I don't like this Clementine."

"Who would you rather?"

"No one," says Mariana. "You. Except happier."

When Clementine doesn't bite, she rolls her eyes and continues,

"If there is, we'll leave, simple as that."

"They're  _ her _ friends," says Clementine.

"What, and you think no one else is gonna have your back?"

Clementine doesn't get the chance to answer. Gabe arrives at that very moment, his clothes rumpled, hair a mess. He hadn't been at dinner the night before, after calling to say he was staying out with friends, and now Clementine is hit with the unmistakable whiff of alcohol that hangs around him. Mariana watches as he approaches the table, sagging into the nearest chair, and chokes back a snort of laughter when Gabe groans and props his head on his fist.

"Didn't hear you come in," she says quietly, so that Kate has little chance of overhearing. "What time was it?"

"Half four," says Gabe. "Don't laugh – honestly – had to climb through the window."

"I thought Dad set the alarm?"

"Disabled it," says Gabe, "only in my room. Window's free."

"You smell like a bar."

"You smell a prostitute. Fuck, d'you have to wear that?"

"It's deodorant," says Mariana. "Try some."

Gabe groans again, pushing his head down into his arms. Clementine is vaguely aware of a smirk curving the corners of her mouth. Mariana hides a grin but all the same, she grabs another glass and pours Gabe a hearty measure of juice.

"I'm serious," she tells him, nudging his arm with the beaker. "When Dad comes in, you're done for."

"Stop," grumbles Gabe.

But Kate agrees. When she hangs up the phone, she tips the final pancake out of the frying pan and carries the entire stack over to to the table, where Mariana is eating the diced strawberries alone out of the bowl. Kate slaps Mariana's hands away, takes hold of her face to have another look at the bruise, then shakes Gabe's shoulders to wake him back up.

"Eat," she says, "and then take a shower. Dude, what were you drinking – whiskey?"

"Borbon," Gabe tells her.

Kate pulls a face. "No wonder you're ill!"

"Speaking of alcohol..." 

Mariana gets her way, in the end, after several minutes of Kate insisting that she isn't going to do a store-run and buy her any more vodka. The conversation is shut down fairly quickly when David arrives and everyone's eyes fall back to Gabe. Kate insists she can't smell anything; that it must be the kitchen cleaner. Clementine isn't entirely sure that David believes her as he sits next to Gabe – who avoids his gaze – but after a short while he lets the subject drop regardless.

They leave the table full of pancakes, slightly sticky from the syrup, and feeling a little sick. Gabe mumbles his thanks, with David shouting, 

"Look alive!"

in his wake, while Mariana is rolling her eyes and Kate reaches nonchalantly for the room spray. Clementine decides that now is as good a time as any to announce that she's going home.

"Not for long," she explains, as Mariana hugs her tightly. "Just this afternoon."

"As long as you're sure," Mariana tells her. "And Clem, if you really don't wanna go tonight... I get it, you know?"

"I'll think," says Clementine.

She finds Lee in the driveway. He's wearing sunglasses and the old college t-shirt that he's had since the 90s, and he's finally decided to dig out the big yellow sponge from under the sink with the intention of washing his car. He's another person, Clementine notes, who smells as if they're sweating out the last of yesterday's beverages.

"Aren't you hungover?" she asks, as she climbs from behind the wheel.

"Very," says Lee. "I thought the air might help."

"Right," says Clementine, though by the look on Lee's face it's doing everything but. "Does it?"

"No," he tells her. "I feel like hell."

"Join the club."

She tells him what's happened. Lee goes quiet as he listens to Clementine's story and the sponge slows in his hand against the car's paintwork. Bubbles are dripping onto the concrete between them.

"This girl," says Lee eventually, "where did you say she went to school?"

"Ericson's," says Clementine.

Lee hums. Clementine thinks for a moment that he's going to say something and readies herself to brace against whatever well thought out criticism will be coming her way. But it doesn't. Lee pushes up his sunglasses and throws the sponge back into the bucket.

"Sit down, sweatpea," he says, gesturing to the steps of the porch. "I'll be a minute."

He comes back out of the house after a few moments with two cans of lemonade, cold from the fridge, and cracks his own open as he settles beside Clementine. She takes her can, rolling it between her palms, and after a loud slurp and a satisfying smack of his lips, Lee begins.

"When I was your age, I liked a girl from outta town."

"What's changed?"

"Shut up," he says, with a grin. "Not talkin' about Carley. Her name was Amy. Real smart, real pretty. Everyone liked to tell me I had no chance of getting with someone like her."

"How come?" asks Clem.

"Dunno," Lee sighs. "Well, not exactly. My old man used to say, Lee, girls like her don't go out with boys like you. And... she was rich, you know? White-collar. One of those girls who always had something new to wear. Her mom and dad had some high-flying job in the city, but I didn't get it, 'cause my parents worked hard too. Always food on the table, no one went without. We were living in a two-storey house by the time I got to high school!"

Clementine raises her eyebrows, gesturing loosely to their house.

"Yeah, I know, I know," says Lee. "I did good! And in part, that's why they let me look after you and AJ. Stable career, bought my own house; the only thing missin' was someone to call you her daughter, but Kenny was amazing – "

"Go on," says Clementine. "About Amy."

"Right. Where was I? Oh!"

Lee laughs, as if he's suddenly remembered a long-lost memory of his youth, and takes another sip of lemonade.

"Like I said, she wasn't from Macon. She didn't even go to school with me but can you imagine how shocked everyone was, when I told 'em we were going to prom together!"

"How did you meet?"

"Dance class!" says Lee happily. "What, you haven't seen my moves?"

"I have," says Clementine with a giggle, "and I don't believe you took classes for them!"

"I was the best," Lee declares. "That's how I got her. It didn't happen, in the end... 'Course, then everyone thought I was lying, and my baby brother's word didn't count for anythin', back then! She phoned the house, half hour before I was supposed to pick her up; says, Lee, we're too different."

He wets his lips.

"We weren't," he explains, more soberly. "Found out later her parents had a big say in who she could and couldn't date, and... let's just say they fancied their daughter with someone set to be a lawyer or a banker 'stead of me. They thought I'd ruin her chances. I wasn't a good investment."

"That's horrible."

"It was the 90s. I was workin' weekends at the gas station, 'stead of applying for Havard like the guys at her school."

"I don't understand. What's that got to do with me and Violet?"

"Maybe," says Lee, "she's trying to save herself some heartache. You know – turn you away, before you get the chance."

"But I wouldn't..." says Clem.

She looks down at the can in her hands, sweating now with condensation, and finally pops the tab. The bubbles hiss and fizz against the metal and lemonade pools and then dribbles down the side.

"No," says Lee, "but Violet doesn't know."

He stands up, stretching briefly before he moves back across to the car.

"You wanna know somethin' funny?" he continues, and Clementine looks up. "Me and Amy. We met again in college. Dated for a while, and she said I was the best man she'd ever met."

"You are," Clementine tells him.

Lee rolls his eyes, but a proud grin creeps nevertheless onto his face. He tries to hide it, as if he doesn't deserve the praise but Lee, thinks Clementine, would be a credit to anyone.

He's delighted to call her his daughter.

She's lucky to live under his roof. Both she and AJ could have been bounced from family to family, through the care system, for years between them; would never have met one another nor truly had a place to call home. Lee had signed the papers, passed all the tests, had Kenny and Katjaa vouch vehemently when, as Clementine had learnt, the question of whether a single man was capable of supporting a child was raised.

Lee continues,

"She had long hair when we met. Gold, almost; the colour of sunflowers. Then, when we got to college, she'd cut it all off, dyed it bright blue; got her nose pierced and stuff like that, like she just wanted an excuse to piss off her parents. It worked, of course."

"I bet they loved having you for dinner," says Clementine.

"No, actually!" says Lee, with a laugh, as he dunks his hand back into the bucket for his sponge. "But my parents... They thought she was somethin' else. Real funny. She was never gonna marry a lawyer. Or a professor, for that matter. I think she moved to Alaska in the end, with the husband she met after me."

And with that, he slaps the sponge back against the side of the car.

Peace falls again over the house and the driveway. Lee begins to hum the tune of  _ Dance Hall Days _ , lowly to himself, and Clementine smiles as she watches and listens to the birds, twittering somewhere on the telephone wires above them.

Christa comes out from next door, suitcase dragging along behind. Clementine hadn't noticed before, but now she definitely sees the telltale bump of another pregnancy pressing against the soft cotton of her dress. Omid, in the doorway, has the baby in his arms.

"Will you call, when you get there?" he asks.

"Omid," groans Christa, "it's half an hour."

"45 minutes!" he insists. "Come on, I won't sleep. Neither will Omid Jr."

"You're ridiculous," Christa tells him.

She slams the trunk of the car over the suitcase and goes back to kiss to her husband and the baby. She catches Clementine's eye and says lightly,

"Look after him, won't you? Only going for a week; you'd think I was leaving the country."

"You still goin' to your mom's?" Lee calls, from the driveway.

"Yeah," says Christa. "She still isn't well."

"You give her my love," Lee tells her, and Christa nods.

"I better get going."

The four of them watch as the car pulls out into the street and disappears from view around the corner. Omid keeps his eye on the road for a few more minutes, bouncing the gurgling baby, and then looks back towards Lee.

"You need any help?" he asks.

"No," says Lee, "I got it."

"Where's your boy?"

"Babysitter wanted to take him out for lunch. Chuck E Cheese, I think."

"Nice. I can't wait 'til this one's older – I'm thinking I'll take him fishing, teach him how to catch some dinner."

"I wouldn't trust AJ with a fishhook," says Lee. "There's a liability!"

"He seems alright," says Omid, nodding agreeably. "Can't go wrong, after all, when you've got a big sister like Clementine watching out for you."

"Big sister wants to keep both eyes," Clementine tells him.

"I hear that," says Lee.

Omid is still nodding. He's likely caught up in a fantasy of pressing a fishing rod into his son's hands, guiding his arms until he's strong enough to cast the line into the lake. Then, after a beat, he asks,

"Are you planning on watching the game later?"

"Omid..." says Lee, and just for a moment he reminds Clementine entirely of Christa – the roll of her eyes and fond, worn-out patience. "If you want company, all you've gotta do is ask."

That's how Clementine ends up with the baby on her lap, sucking persistently at a loose lock of her hair and looking up with the biggest brown eyes she's seen in her life. He's still fairly bald, with only a whispy dusting on the top of his head, but he has a couple of teeth coming through and quickly starts to smile at Clementine.

Omid suggests they clean her car too, after spraying the hosepipe over Lee's Cherokee. Lee snorts.

"It isn't dirt," he says, "it's rust!"

But the big yellow sponge is taken to the Mustang as well. At some point, and Clementine isn't exactly sure how it gets started, Lee and Omid decide that they're having a water fight. Clementine has to dart back into the shelter of the hallway, Omid Jr giggling happily, as the two adult men run in circles like children around the cars, jumping, diving for the hosepipe, and splattering the soaking wet sponge and chamois leather against each other's backs.

They're equally soapy and dripping with water by the time Kenny arrives with an armful of PBR – alcohol-free, for himself.

"What the fuck is going on?" he asks, edging around the water as he comes up the drive.

"Jesus," says Lee, still chortling as he shakes himself off, "you wanna do me a favour? Take the baby from Clementine, would ya, while we dry up?"

Clementine, also heading upstairs, asks Lee if he's still hungover. He pushes her with his shoulder and says there's little point in dwelling on the past, which Clementine takes to mean that he'll be drinking again.

Everyone relocates to the house next door – Omid putting the baby down for his afternoon nap in the bedroom upstairs, while Kenny and Lee debate outside as to whether they're gonna need more beer now that there are three of them. In the end, Lee takes the car, goes to the store, and comes back with AJ in tow, a big bag of Doritos and six-pack.

"Just come in," he tells Clementine, "if anything happens."

And she says that she will.

The sounds of the men's laughter fades as the door closes, and she's standing in the hallway in a quiet, empty house.

_ I might regret it _ , says Clementine, in a text to Mariana,  _ but fuck the rules, I'm coming to the party. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the UK, teenagers don't drink spirits when they're out in the park after dark with their pals. No, instead, we pay £2.99 for 2L plastic bottle of Strongbow or Frosty Jack's cider, or maybe someone splurges and buys a bottle of Lambrini instead.
> 
> If anyone wondered, Lee definitely drives a black Jeep Cherokee which, despite not being new, always has that new car smell about it.


	18. Fire't Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get a brew on the go because this is a long one at 6687 words. Sorry for the delay!

There's little point in hiding. There's relief in realising that a problem won't disappear if she only ignores it for long enough, and so Clementine finds that it's with renewed confidence that she plans for the evening ahead.

She spends half an hour on the phone to Louis putting the world to rights and then, after a shower, almost two hours with Mariana as she picks an outfit, dries her hair and makes something to eat. She switches on the television halfway through, just to visualise what state Lee, Kenny and Omid next door will be in, and sees a few yellow cards being thrown up for the opposing team.

Lee calls back in before she leaves, at the end of the game.

"Well?" says Clem.

"Nothing to write home about," he tells her, "but you look lovely."

She'd decided to wear the gingham pinafore, and has her hair pulled back into two low bunches at the back of her head like when she little. Lee had been the first person to attempt to tame her hair, after her parents, and that was the first style that Clementine had agreed with him on. Now, with mint green scrunchies to hold everything back and the old baseball cap perched on her head, Clementine is reminded of the early days and the smile Lee had on her first day at her new school. Her shoulders are bare, she has a second-hand leather satchel slung across her front and her mother's favourite locket dangling from it's gold chain.

Lee takes her picture on his phone, standing in front of the stairs, and – clearly a little more jovial than Clementine had initially realised – shows her happily when he sets it as his lockscreen.

Clementine tells Lee that she plans to keep off the alcohol but somehow he doesn't believe her.

"Alright," says Lee, "whatever you say." As an afterthought, he adds, "But don't tell Kenny."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"And don't get too drunk!"

"Never again," she promises.

And then Clementine's phone lights up on the table – Mariana, waiting in the minivan outside with her dad.

She's in the back seat, shielding a labelless bottle of clear liquid beneath her denim jacket. As they drive, all the while Mariana is also promising that no, dad, of course we aren't drinking, it's not that sort of party. But David isn't stupid. He launches into a crescendoing rant about keeping secrets and wonders aloud why his family seem hellbent on hiding things from him.

Mariana says, "God, you're so overbearing!"

And if anything that makes it worse.

David knows about Gabe, of course. He says Kate's too lenient and that it's his job to care what his children are up to; says,

"I just want you to be safe, Mija!"

But Mariana argues that he never cared when they were younger, so why has it changed now? David threatens to turn the car around. Clementine thinks they're about three minutes away from screaming at each other, as David goes on and on about war not stopping for anyone with a family; about the fact that both Mariana and Gabe are so much more like their uncle than he would have hoped. The argument is only avoided in the end because David has to brake suddenly to avoid another vehicle pulling into the road ahead of them and instantly starts to shout at the driver instead.

Mariana catches Clementine's eye, rolling hers as she does so, and texts,

_ Uncle Javi wouldn't care. _

_ Uncle Kenny would, _ replies Clementine.

Mariana shakes her head.

When they pull into Marlon's driveway, the party is already in full swing. There's a fire burning around the side of the house, sending plumes of grey-white smoke up into the fading blue of the sky. Music is blaring from the living room and there are several teenagers amongst a few adults scattered around in the yard, talking and laughing.

David hasn't said a word for the last ten minutes.

"I'll be back early," says Mariana, with difficulty, as she goes to unbuckle her seatbelt. "Tomorrow."

"I've got church," Clementine tells him.

This time, she doesn't think the excuse of Mariana being ill will fly quite as seamlessly with Kenny as the last. Lee had even offered specifically to pick them both up, at half-past nine, to ensure there weren't any more awkward questions.

"We'll be fine," says Mariana.

David beats the heel of his hand against the steering wheel. Mariana reaches instinctively for the door handle, not taking her eyes off her father, but David doesn't shout; simply exhales intensely and reaches into his pocket, bringing out his wallet and from that, a $10 bill.

"Get some breakfast," he says heavily, as he turns to hand it to his daughter. "Mija, I love you."

"Right," says Mariana. "Same..."

There's an uncomfortable pause. Clementine makes the first move, freeing herself from the seatbelt and climbing out of the van before either has the opportunity to start to bicker again. Mariana follows a moment later, sliding out onto the gravel and mumbling something of an apology.

"I feel like a dick," she tells Clementine lowly, as they make their way up the drive. "I wish he wouldn't do that."

"Are you still going to drink?"

"Yeah," says Mariana. And then, "Oh no, what's he wearing?"

Louis is approaching with a big grin from the front of the house. Clementine is used to his unique dress sense, but tonight he's donning a jacket that she can only describe as a gaudy.

"Don't kiss me," Mariana hisses, as Louis goes in with open arms.

The minivan is still humming behind them on the drive.

"Your face –" says Louis instead, and the speed with which his expressions turns from joy to horror is enough to make Clementine's stomach sink.

Mariana pulls his hands away, almost dropping the bottle in her arms as she does so. She thrusts that forwards instead between them to occupy the space.

"I'm serious," she tells him. "My dad's right there."

"Wow..." says Louis. He's staring at the bruise. "When you said she hit you..."

"Can we just get outta here?"

"Well, doesn't it hurt?"

"No," says Mariana. "It's fine."

Clementine rushes in. Louis isn't content to let the subject drop, she can tell, and Mariana is definitely lying – she'd said specifically, on the phone, as she'd tried to cover the bruise with concealer that she hadn't realised at the time just how hard Minnie had struck out. But David is still lingering in the driveway, watching attentively in the wing mirror, and Clementine is determined not to cause a scene over anything that has happened in the past 24 hours.

"Your jacket," she says quickly, "it's –"

"Oh," says Louis, "Versace... I know, I hate it."

"It's disgusting," says Mariana, letting out something between a giggle and a snort.

Louis just smiles.

"Yeah," he says, "but it's comfy. It'll be around your shoulders later, just wait, you'll see. Clem, you okay?"

"Well," she simpers, "I don't have any bruises."

"Good," says Louis, with another peculiar grimace. "Jeez, man, I didn't know she'd –"

"Drop it," Mariana tells him.

"Really," says Clementine. "Look, it's taken me long enough just to... get here. I wanna forget about it."

"Yeah," says Louis, "right."

"Where is everyone?"

There are familiar faces, that's for sure. Clementine recognises a couple of the cousins and Marlene, with a gaggle of younger girls, as Louis leads them into the house through the throng. This time, it seems, Marlon's parents are home and they, too, have invited their friends. Mitch is chatting to a man who is the older, spitting image of Marlon (minus the acne) in the kitchen and also there beside them, as he'd promised, is Aasim slurping a can of cola.

Marlon comes in almost immediately through the back door.

"You're here!" he says, wrapping Clementine and then Mariana in turn in a one-armed hug, beer bottle sloshing in the other. "Woulda missed ya."

"I didn't wanna impose," Clementine tells him.

But Marlon merely shrugs.

"It's a party," he says, "who you gonna impose on? Fuck it, anyway. Water under the bridge. Hey, grab a beer!"

"We brought vodka," says Mariana, "thanks."

"Glasses over there," he says, with a vague sort of gesture. "Look, if you see my mom hangin' around – blonde hair, arm of tattoos – uh – she's great but like..."

"Still your mom?" offers Mariana.

"Kinda," says Marlon. "You'll see."

"Sandy!" yells the familiar man **** from behind them. "Get in here.

"Here we go," mutters Marlon.

Fairly quickly Clementine and Mariana learn this simply means that Marlon's mother is quite a flighty woman and that she'll immediately start to offer up tequila sunrises at first sight. Louis thinks it hilarious, grinning from ear to ear as she flits between them in her sundress, desperate to serve them a beverage. The older man grabs hold of her forearm, pulling her off to the side, and Clementine finds herself momentarily drawn into a conversation with another girl who filters into the kitchen, adamant that they'd played hockey against each other. When she turns back, Mariana is no longer beside her. Instead, she's standing with Louis on the other side of the kitchen, bodies knitted closely together as they whisper.

She can't hear their conversation, but Clementine can lipread well enough to know that Mariana's asking,

"Is Violet here?"

And Louis is shaking his head; saying something about Minnie and Sophie; something about another argument.

Clementine looks away. She grabs Mariana's bottle of vodka and, damned whatever she'd said to Lee, pours a hearty measure out into one of the clean solo cups and begins the search for a mixer. In again comes Sandy with an orange-cranberry juice mix, as if she's hosting a children's birthday party, and then by default Marlon.

"Mom, stop it!"

"She's thirsty!"

"I'm okay," Clementine tells him.

"It's so embarrassing."

"Where's your sister?"

"How should I know! Fuck, Clem, come on – leave it."

But Sandy is pushing the cup into Clementine's hands, undeterred.

"We don't drink beer like all the men, do we, sweetheart?" she's saying, smiling as if she's letting Clem in on a secret. She pays no heed to the way Marlon puts his hand on Clementine's shoulder, as if to lead her away. "Don't listen, enjoy yourself."

"She will," says Marlon, and then in an undertone as he's steering Clementine away, "She just tries to befriend everyone, it's nothin'."

"I'm good," says Clementine again.

Marlon lets go of her shoulder. Sandy behind them has rounded on Aasim.

"Uh, no, Mrs Chase, I don't drink."

And Marlon has to approach to deal with that as well.

"Mom, I told you about this – "

Deciding to leave her friends to reconcile together, Clementine wanders out into the hallway. There's no sign of Minnie – no recognisable jacket, nor her guitar – and, like Louis had said, no Violet. Clementine hadn't known, of course, that the girls wouldn't be here, but she'd envisioned the scenario. She'd thought, at the very least, that Violet would show up and remains convinced as she searches the house.

Clementine had it planned out. She'd explain to Violet; use Lee's story. She'd be calm and collected as she was when she was facing herself down in the mirror, giving the pep talk. If Minnie was there, she'd turn her cheek. If she started another fight, Clementine wouldn't run. Mariana would have her back like always.

It's unfair, thinks Clementine, the timing of it all.

After ducking in and out of the bedrooms upstairs, the bathroom, the utility cupboard of all places, for any sign of Violet, eventually she gives up. She sinks onto the stairs about halfway up and takes a swig of her drink, vodka orange-cranberry somehow tasting uncannily like tequila, and wonders, really, if Violet was here, whose side would she take?

Couldn't she and Minnie have instead broken up amicably some few weeks before they'd met? Wouldn't that have been better? And if Clementine had to be the catalyst in the entire mess of things, couldn't Violet just show her face now so they could talk like adults?

Like teenagers, thinks Clementine.

She's young and dumb and doesn't know anything. And if Violet is avoiding her, Clementine likely never will.

A couple of girls run by on the stairs. They're Marlene's friends, perhaps age 13, 14, all with long straight hair and high-pitched giggles. They're laughing about trying to kiss some boy. Clementine's glad that no one seems to be looking for her, although she'd faintly heard Mariana's voice above the music whilst checking the bathroom. She wonders rather wretchedly if Violet's thought any about their last conversation, too; if she feels that by staying away, she's missing out on recovering a friendship.

They could have made things right. It might have been awkward, in the beginning, sure, but at least Clementine would have known. They could have accepted Sandy's drinks, stood in the firelight outside, joked as if nothing had changed.

Clementine supposes Lee was right, but the thought isn't comforting.

Then Brody's face appears at the bottom of the stairs. She has Marlon's letterman jacket slung around her shoulders, hanging from one, three sizes too big.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

Oh God, thinks Clementine, there it is – the pity. She raises her drink, raises her eyebrows, and downs the rest of it in a swallow. Brody comes crawling like a cat on all fours towards her.

"Drinking alone? Not a good look."

She takes the space beside Clementine, blocking the stairs. She smells like the bonfire, like Marlon's aftershave and her own perfume.

"You thinking about Violet?"

Clementine snorts. "Is it obvious?"

"There's a party downstairs and you're hiding up here."

"D'you know we fell out?"

"Yeah," says Brody. "Most of us do."

"Great."

"What? It travels. And if Louis knows, Marlon knows. Then I know. Then Ruby, Aasim. You get the idea."

Clementine wishes she hadn't finished her drink.

"It's not like I  _ want _ to think about it," she says. "I thought I could sort it all out but now Violet isn't here, and..."

"Clem," says Brody, "me and Violet have fallen out more times than I can count. You can't share a room with someone and not start to hate them from time to time."

"I think this is different."

"No reason to ruin an evening."

Clementine looks at her and Brody just shrugs.

"I know you're right."

"Come on," says Brody. She catches Clementine's wrist and pulls her to her feet. "I was looking for Ruby, we're playing Spin The Bottle."

"Right," says Clem.

She leaves her empty cup on the stairs.

Ruby is located en route and dragged along against her will, aided by the girl Clementine had met in the kitchen. She hadn't ventured into the dining room on her previous visit to Marlon's house, but nevertheless, Clementine finds herself to be quite impressed with the abundance of people that have already been convinced to join. There's Darla, the girl who had taken a fall up the stairs at the last party, and Ben; someone's uncle, unfortunately, who's trying to weave his way out between the teenagers; then Marlene, looking smug, sitting on the edge of the table. Clementine quickly forgets to be sullen. 

Ruby is saying, "Don't think I don't know!"

And Aasim is buffeted into the room behind them by Marlon, which prompts another shout.

“Oh, would you stop tryna set us up!”

Clementine begins to laugh. Brody catches her eye with a smile.

"You!" says Marlon, pointing accusingly across at his little sister. "Get out."

"I'm nearly 15!"

"Yeah, in December!"

"Stop bein' a buzzkill."

She stays despite Marlon's complaints. And so does Ruby, despite her own.

Soon, a great number of teenagers are sitting elbow to elbow around the table, in some cases two to a chair, snickering and shouting to one another while friends and crushes try to push in around them. The bottle they're using, an old 70cl Four Roses, doesn't spin so much as slide across the polished hardwood, and Clementine has to catch it several times as it nears the edge. She has Ruby's arms folded behind her on the back of the chair, her laughter over the crown of her head, Brody on Marlon's lap beside them and Aasim with his eyes trained precautiously on the whiskey bottle.

There's chaos, of course, when Sandy attempts to wriggle into the throng and then Marlon's yelling at her to get out of the room. Marlene, back on the table, starts shouting for their father.

"Dad, she's babysittin'!"

And Sandy only manages to force one glass of tequila sunrise onto a sympathetic cousin at the end before she's being escorted out. The cousin passes the drink around the table, barely glancing into it, and it bypasses several hands before Aasim gets hold and gives a tentative sniff.

Marlon grabs the glass, chugging it back, pulling a face none-too-discretely before handing it over to Clementine.

"S'not bad," he says, with a husk in his voice.

"Now this is definitely alcoholic."

"Well, it's hardly been poisoned!"

"What's going on?"

Louis' head appears in the doorway. He's got a bottle of cider in his hand, still wearing the disgusting Versace jacket, and somewhere en route has plucked a couple of daisies from the yard and wound them around a lock of his dreds.

"Fuckin' Uno – what d'you think?"

"Shut up Keifer."

"Someone's idea of a game," says Ruby, her tone not quite mirroring the intention of her words. "Spin The Bottle, go figure."

"And why'm I not invited?"

"You've got legs," Marlon tells him. "Sit down! Shut up."

"Can sit with me," says Marlene, and she's moving aside even as she says it to pat the table's corner.

Louis frowns but follows her lead.

Several spins later, and Clementine is feeling the burn of tequila in her throat. No, she thinks, it hasn't been poisoned, but it's strong as shit without a doubt and makes her grimace after every swig. She only keeps drinking, only sticks with it, because she's also loosened and began to feel the heat in her cheeks. It's easier to smile, to talk, to not think about Violet or Minnie. And when the stoppered end of the whiskey bottle lands on her, and Darla looks up from across the table, Clementine even bursts out into a fit of nervous giggles.

Some joke starts up about girl on girl action. 

Darla's saying, "No, I won't!"

And a few of the boys are hollering. Aaron, having joined with an armful of beers way back before Sandy came in, kisses Clementine instead, grossly exaggerating the faux smack of his lips against her cheek with a sparkle in his eye, and shaking his head without care at the complaints of him having cheated.

From somewhere in the hallway, there comes a loud crash. Someone curses. A chorus of oohs and ahhs follow, as well as jeers from the people closest to the door.

"This fuckin' thing!"

Clementine takes her leave. It's almost quarter past nine and she hasn't seen Mariana since they arrived. She takes her drink and lets Ruby slide into her vacated seat; tells Louis and Marlon when they call that she's off to find their friend. The sideboard in the hallway has collapsed again – not bearing the weight, it appears, of a drunken middle-aged man as well as family photos, after the last time it had been broken – and retires in several pieces on the floor. The perpetrator is stumbling back to his feet, a little disorientated, and is quickly picked up and clapped on the back by another of the men.

Night crawls in around the farmhouse.

The sky outside ripens into a deep mauve and then darkens, and the smell of the fire in the yard begins to filter more strongly through the open windows as a breeze picks up.

By eleven o clock, everyone is yelling and whooping.

Marlon's father is most definitely drunk. His voice has grown deeper and more illegible as he shouts to his buddies above the music, and they begin to pogo around the living room as UK Subs blasts out over the speaker. Mitch seems to get along with them too. He'd been talking with quiet intensity to Mariana when Clementine found them on the sofa, about whether Siri would one day be able to pass the Turing Test; about Gabe's passion for science that manifested in Mariana as her love for Math. He hadn't been joking about blowing up his dad's car.

Now Mitch is laughing and jumping with older men, and if he's one of their friends instead of Marlon's, and Mariana is creasing and holding her stomach on the floor, tears rolling down her cheeks, as Louis makes quips and tries to pull her to dance.

Spin The Bottle hadn't ended well.

Clementine had just about managed to finish her tequila sunrise when a flood of teenagers came pelting into the living room, headed by Aasim. Mariana had jumped to her feet. One of the boys, a cousin of a cousin, had tackled Aasim to the floor and everyone was shouting.

Marlon was cackling.

Then all around them were shouts of,

"Kiss, kiss, kiss!"

as Ruby, face red as her name, was frogmarched into the room by Darla and Brody, and Marlene was shouting that it was against the rules to skip a go.

Whether or not the ritual was actually completed, Clementine doesn't know. There were too many bodies, too many people taller than her to see what was happening, and by the time she'd got up on the arm of the sofa, Aasim was again wriggling free and tearing off. Ruby had near pushed the breath out of Brody as she shoved her away, and then Marlon was angry.

"Hey, take a joke, man!"

But everything has, eventually, settled down. If you could call it that.

Sandy has cornered Brody, who doesn't seem to mind, and she's pouring drink after drink for the girl as she cajoles information out of her about Marlon, their relationship, and as to whether she thinks they'll get married. Louis' jacket lies over the seat of the sofa, and Mariana is stroking it, saying,

"I hate this so much."

She's playful, she's happy – she's drunk – and even the welt on her cheek seems to have been forgotten, like the argument with David.

Another couple are making out blithely in the armchair beside the speaker. In the yard, a tuneless singalong of  _ Whiskey In The Jar  _ has started up and there's the vroom of a motorbike engine; the smashing of a bottle.

Clementine gets up. Mariana is pulling Louis down to the floor and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, and Clementine just needs five minutes alone.

She's happy for them.

Of course she is. But again, rearing its head, the ugly shadow of jealousy, of poorly timed disaster.

The path she takes leads her away from the house, out through the kitchen. Clementine grabs a bottle of beer as she passes and stops momentarily to borrow someone's penknife, jacking open the lid, who doesn't care who she is or where she's going. She finds herself sitting on the edge of the low perimeter wall, not too far from where she'd thrown up the last time, but swings her legs over so that she's facing away from the party and towards the dark fields.

In the distance, Clementine can still hear the singing.

She pulls out her phone. The screen glows brightly through the darkness and the clock reads a little after midnight. There's a text from Gabe, asking again if she wants to go out at some point.

_ I know you're not into me, but just as friends? _

Clementine says that she will.

Maybe Gabe after all, she thinks, was the safer option. If only she'd tried... But Clementine can't change the facts. She isn't attracted to Gabe, not like that. She's said to Louis once before that he was practically a brother, and she'd never dreamed of him with the same intensity nor as often as she had Violet, even in the short time they'd known one another.

The dreams with Gabe... They were action, and Violet's were romance. Clementine and Gabe were always in a video game, always around other people, running from zombies or bandits or once, after watching  _ Jurassic Park  _ with AJ, dinosaurs – pistol at her waist, knife in her hand. Never romantic.

Clementine had never woken from one of those dreams and wished it was real.

Violet on the other hand had crept into her world without intention and hollowed a space out inside of her that Clementine hadn't thought was possible, and now she's bailed. Clementine has forced her to bail.

Minnie became a problem.

Clementine doesn't have nearly enough experience to know what she's supposed to do to move on from right here, right now, alone in the yard, skin crawling with self-pity. Luckily she doesn't have to.

Louis drops down beside her, a silly grin plastered to his face.

"Hey," he says, "having a good time?"

" _ You _ certainly are," Clementine tells him.

She smiles, tucking her phone away she wipes a streak of lipstick from Louis' mouth with her thumb. He agrees shyly. He digs into his pocket and comes back out with a half-smoked joint and begins to pat himself down for a lighter.

"I just needed to leave," says Clem, "for a moment."

"Sure," says Louis. "I get it. What d'you think of Sandy, huh?"

"Marlon's mom?"

"Yeah."

"Intense," says Clem. "Dizzy."

"Yeah." Louis laughs. "She's... funny, you know. Hellbent on embarrassing her kids, and doesn't even realise. My dad would throw a fit, having all these people 'round.  _ 'The music's too loud!' _ – all that, you know?"

"Not really," says Clem. "The last party I had was for my sixteenth, and even then... It was me, Mariana, Lee and our family friends. Uncle Kenny. He doesn't drink anymore."

"Oh, is  _ that _ the guy?"

"Church?" Clementine nods. "The very same."

"Well," says Louis, "don't get me wrong. There's a reason we party at Marlon's house, instead of anywhere else. Parents seem happy to turn a blind eye when it's not their carpet kids are throwing up on. Sandy never cares. Just cleans it up."

He raises his lighter.

"You want some?"

"What is it?"

"The Devil's Lettuce." Louis wiggles his eyebrows. "Nah, I’m just messin', it's Marlon's. You’ll be fine."

"Uh," says Clem, "sure."

Louis is just about to take the first toke, fingers pressed together at the end, when a hand comes between them to take it. Both turn. Violet, her expression unreadable, takes a deep drag before handing it back.

“She doesn’t,” she says.

"Violet," breathes Clem.

"Oh!" says Louis. "You're here! Marlon thought you weren't coming."

"Ya?" she says. "Well, here I am." She gestures awkwardly towards Clementine. "Can we talk?"

Louis is half-way out of his seat.

"No," says Violet, "not outside."

Clementine nods, feeling stupefied. This is what she'd wanted but suddenly, she feels much too sober to consider it. On her terms, in her imagination, it would have been fine. But Violet has appeared unannounced. Clementine barely registers the party still raging around them as the other girl leads her back towards the house and up the stairs, waving Aasim away when he comes gratefully towards them, and pushes her way into Marlon's bedroom.

The conversation could go one of two ways and Clementine mightn't be ready for one of them.

"I'm angry," says Violet, straight off the bat, as she closes the door.

Clementine sinks onto the edge of Marlon's bed. It's considerably more messy than the last time she was here. Having not found the time or, maybe more appropriately, the tenacity to unpack, Marlon's suitcase and boxes of belongings from Ericson are still scattered over the floor, some of them open, bursting with black band t-shirts and jeans. There's a red lava lamp in the corner of the room. It casts an ominous glow over the carpet as it bubbles and pulses and serves as a reminder of the things that have changed.

Clementine feels as if she's intruding, especially at the sight of Brody's bra, all black lace and satin, peeking out from beneath the duvet.

"I'm not," Violet continues, a little more softly. "Shit, I don't know what I am. Messed up, huh?"

"Violet," says Clem, "you've just broken up with your girlfriend."

"I have," she says, "'cause of you."

There isn't much Clementine can say to that so she swallows, looking back towards the lava lamp. Surely Violet hadn't brought her here with the sole intention of berating her.

"That... came out wrong."

"Yeah." Clementine nods. "A little."

With a sigh, Violet joins her on the bed. She keeps her body tight and small, knees pressed together, keeping a safe distance from Clementine who wants nothing more than to reach out, to grab Violet, to make everything okay. She wishes she could rewind to 48 hours ago, when she'd yet to have anything stupid come out of her mouth.

It's half past midnight, and she wishes the both of them were downstairs, enjoying the party, rather than having to talk. At the very least, she could have told Violet about the confrontation with Minnie but kept her own feelings out of it.

Instead, she'd said, I like you.

And now they're at a stalemate.

"I didn't mean to chew you out," says Violet, "yesterday. Shit, I'd hoped to be drunk by the time we got to havin’ this conversation."

"Aren't you?"

"What'd you think? I've just got here."

Clementine bites her lip. She shakes her head.

"Me neither," she says.

"What’s Louis told you?"

“About you and Minnie?”

“About me in general.”

“Nothing,” says Clementine. “Not really. Just you’ll explain when you’re ready.”

“Okay,” says Violet, and takes a deep breath. “Clementine,” she says, “I live in a goddamn trailer.”

Clementine waits. She thinks there ought to be more. When Violet glances over, as if she's expecting a response, Clementine asks,

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

Violet snorts.

“Everythin’,” she says. “Why I shouldn’t be – good enough –"

“What?”

“Listen!" she says.

The sound of  _ American Pie _ floats up from the living room, accompanied by equal amounts of boos and cheers. Someone has changed the previous song mid-flow.

Clementine holds her tongue.

"Minnie just got it," says Violet more quietly. She stares at her lap. "Didn't have to be told nothin' 'cause she was always right there, livin' my reality, seein' who I am."

She pauses, just for a moment.

"But then," Violet continues, "it wasn't as important. Everyone got to talkin' about college and graduation and then... Then I met you."

Clementine thinks of Amy. And of Lee. And of Grandad Everett telling Lee, maybe sadly, that girls like her don't go out with boys like you.

Violet sighs.

"Clementine," she says, "what I mean, what I'm tryna say, is me and Minnie were great for each other, until suddenly we weren't. And then the fact that I suddenly mighta had more in common with a girl from the suburbs, who hasn't a clue where I come from, who doesn't – shit – isn't  _ supposed _ to understand – it really got under Minnie's skin."

"The black eye," says Clem, "that time, and the busted lip. Was that – "

"No," says Violet. "No, it wasn't Minnie."

"Oh," says Clem, "okay, good." She isn't sure what else to say in this situation. "I just –"

"Don't," warns Violet. "I've spent the last eight years of school bein' analysed; I don't need it from you as well."

Clementine looks away, finally taking a swig of the beer. The taste is dull and flat against her tongue and it's warm from where she's held it. Violet takes the bottle wordlessly from her hands and tilts it against her lips. Clementine dares to glance back, watching Violet's throat constrict as she swallows, once, twice, three times, and then the bottle is empty. She throws it gently onto the carpet, where it rolls to a stop beside the bookcase.

"Does Lee get angry when he drinks?" she asks.

"No," says Clementine.

"And you just get soft."

"Yeah," she says, and laughs accidentally.

Violet lets a smile crawl into the corners of her mouth.

“You’re lucky,” she says. “Shit, you probably know as much. And it’s not like I don’t wanna tell you about – I mean, I  _ do _ . It’s just too much.”

"I don’t need to know any more,” says Clem. “I just want you to be okay.”

Violet nods. It's going rather well.

She means emotionally, as well as physically of course. Clementine still doesn’t understand about Minnie; can only grasp jealousy – far too familiar – but it’s something else, more than that, and she thinks that’s what Violet means. That she won’t quite get it.

It's what Lee was trying to tell her with the anecdote.

"So," says Violet, "you like me, huh?"

Clementine feels her face light up. She lets out a small chuckle, wriggling back finally so that she's comfortable on the bed, legs crossed, facing the other girl.

It  _ must  _ be okay.

"Who told you?"

"You," says Violet. "Marlon. Louis. Fuck it, Ruby."

For some reason, this doesn't sting like it had the previous night.

"Brody."

"Hey," says Clem, "it hasn't been easy! I didn't even know I was – "

"Gay? Oh," says Violet, "so I turned you, is that it?"

"No."

"Alright."

She's smiling too, subtle, but it's good. Clementine wants to relax and slip into the soft edges.

"Louis was... diggin', y'know, the day you first hung out."

"He wasn't!"

"He  _ was.  _ He's got a good gaydar. First time he met Aaron, he just looked at him dead in the eye and said, oh, you should talk to Violet; Violet's a lesbian, you'll get along."

When Clementine sniggers, she adds,

"Never understood straight guys." And a pause. "Except, y'know, the whole attracted to girls kinda thing..."

Footsteps are thundering now up the stairs. The music has changed again to something unfamiliar, heavy rock, and there are girls giggling out in the hallway, Marlene's voice amongst them. Clementine hates to drag them back, especially now that she sure's Violet doesn't completely hate her, but there's something important she needs to ask.

"Yesterday," says Clementine carefully, "you said... you didn't know what to do, with someone like me."

"No," says Violet. She breathes, deflated. "I don't. I want to."

"You have to give yourself the chance," says Clementine.

Violet only titters.

"That's what I mean," she says. "It's always like... expectation. Like I'm supposed to just be fuckin' happy with the hand I'm dealt, and get on with it. You say jump, I say – "

"How high?"

"Ya."

"I wasn't taught to control people, you know."

"I know," says Violet. "Exactly."

She's chewing her lip. She scratches at a spot of dried food on the top of Marlon's duvet as she plans her next words. 

"Bein' honest," she says, "I'm not always sunshine and rainbows, y'know. No one goes to Ericson 'cause they're an all-round perfect person, but... needn't tell you that."

"Why were you there?"

The question hangs, stagnating, in the air for a moment. Clementine rushes on,

"Sorry – "

"My grandma killed herself in front of me when I was eleven. My dad's an alcoholic. My mum worked three jobs at one point just to support us all. And now it's only two but I still fuckin' hate everythin' about her, for no good reason. Where'd I begin?"

"Oh," says Clementine.

"'Cept her music taste."

"Right."

"Too much?"

"No," says Clem. She swallows and shakes her head, and reaches out – slowly – to close her hand over Violet's wrist. She hopes it's comforting, instead of patronising. She hopes Violet understands that nothing is gonna scare her away. "I don't care," she says. "I wanna know about you, all of you, like I do Mariana. I don't think anyone's truly your friend 'til they know what you've been through."

"That it?" asks Violet. "Friendship, all you want?"

"We know I'm not too good at timing."

"You aren't."

But the smile returns. Clementine takes a breath, steadying herself for whatever comes of her next words. Now, she thinks, is as good a time as any. She's only vaguely aware of Violet's wrist shifting beneath her grip, palm turning against Clementine's and colder, slimmer fingers interlocking with her own. If the pretence has already been shattered, there's little left to lose.

"I wanna take you out. Go on a date, whatever you'd call it. I wanna go roller skating and buy ice cream, and drive to the lake, just be with you. Go on adventures. I want Louis and Mariana to fall in love and I don't wanna get left behind."

In case she hasn't properly emphasised her point, Clementine adds,

"No, I think it's more than friendship."

She's summarised more than 'I like you' could ever express. After weeks of dreaming, of conjuring up scenarios in her head in which Clementine might actually get to be with Violet,  _ finally _ , it's  _ out _ . In full. Violet's laugh is soft and breathy in the space between them. Her cheeks, if Clementine isn't mistaken – if they aren't simply coloured by the glow from the lava lamp – have turned pink.

"Ya?" says Violet.

"Yeah," says Clem.

Violet leans in. Only for a second does she hesitate, her eyes dancing between Clementine's lips and the rest of her face, before she lets them fall shut and Clementine meets her kiss halfway.

Showstopping, Mariana had told her once.

Magical.

Stars dancing before your eyes.

"That's what a first kiss feels like!"

Clementine knows now that Mariana was being a little overdramatic when she'd said that, but all the same Clementine wraps her arms around Violet's shoulders, desperate to hold onto the moment. It isn't comfortable – Violet with her legs over the side of the bed and Clementine will hers crossed, craning forwards just to reach – but it's okay. It's good. It's sweet. 

It's everything Clementine has wanted.

Violet gets her hand up on Clementine's cheek, sliding to the nape of her neck and pulling her closer. It's very effortless, the way she manages to bring Clementine down so that she's lying on top of her, all without the drama and confusion of having to untangle their legs. If Clementine was conscious of being on Marlon's bed before, she certainly is now – close enough to smell the remnants of aftershave and musk – yet somehow, enveloped in Violet, she finds it difficult to care.

Violet's fingers are in her hair, her teeth are on Clementine's lip and Clementine thinks, however distantly, that this must be what Heaven is like.

Clementine knows she should tell her; stop to remind Violet that she's never kissed anyone before in her life, not like this; but Violet’s free hand is pushing beneath the hem of her pinafore and Clementine doesn’t want it to end. Violet clutches at her thigh and hums against Clementine's lips, and Clementine knows that everything is moving too fast... until Brody is in the doorway.

Clementine jerks back as if stung at the sound of the hinge.

Brody shrieks, "Ooh la la!"

"Get out," says Violet, without looking up.

Brody staggers as she reaches again for the doorknob.

“You didn’t tell me you’d arrived – "

“Did you want somethin’?”

“No,” giggles Brody. “I’m leavin’!”

The latch clicks back into place. Then, from behind the door, a louder call.

"Use a condom!"

There's a brief moment of silence between the two girls left in the bedroom, and then Violet starts to laugh. Clementine, who's fallen back onto the pillow with relief, glances over.

"What?" she asks. "What's funny?"

"Nothin'," says Violet, and she turns over and kisses Clementine again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violet: hums whilst kissing Clementine  
> Me: *thinking of YT comments from the Louis romance playthrough* sis fuckin' moaned


	19. Forever And Then Some

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we at - the beginning of the end!
> 
> Thank you for all the love this story has received. It's been an interesting several months and for a while, in the middle, I thought I was gonna crack but whatever! We've made it.

Nothing is perfect, but life for Clementine she thinks is pretty damn close.

Summer stretches out ahead and following Thursday morning, AJ finally has the cast taken off his arm. He charms the young nurse, chatting animatedly all the while about the signatures that decorate it, and she says she bets he has lots of friends and rewards him with a lollipop. Regardless of her advice to Lee, as they're heading out of the door –

"He'll need to take it easy, for a while at least!"

– the first thing that AJ does when he gets home is bound towards his new treehouse, both arms scrabbling at the wooden ladder, and cons Clementine into spending the afternoon playing pirates with him. 

When the doorbell rings, AJ is the one to run to answer. Clementine can hear, even from out in the garden, as he cries with jubilation,

"Look, look, I'm better now!"

And Kenny laughs and tells him,

"Now ain't that swell."

As for Violet, well, she becomes a regular guest in the Everett household. She spends Sunday afternoons, Monday evenings, Tuesday mornings, Wednesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, between the new shifts she picks up at the diner, and soon she and Lee are close enough to start making jokes at Clementine's expense.

There's room made in the airing cupboard, specifically for an assortment of spare clothes.

Clementine's Friday nights are still spent with Mariana, of course, almost exclusively. Their friendship remains steadfast and unaffected. Louis is even given instructions to only text if it's an absolute emergency, any time after 5 pm, and Violet says in response that he's whipped.

"Like you?" Louis counters.

"Like both!" says Brody.

She's recently had her nose pierced and it glints in the sunlight, quite like the ring that's appeared on her fourth finger that Marlon refuses to give an explanation for.

Violet rolls her eyes.

She and Clementine aren't girlfriends – that's still a title they're yet to decide on – but Clementine knows it's a lot more than friendship from the sheer number of times they end up making out in the front of her Mustang, mixtape on in the background, pulses racing. Her phone goes off once in the middle of this, buzzing insistently against the dashboard and Clementine learns right there and then that Violet is a lot more mischievous than she lets on.

Violet doesn't let Clementine gets her hands on the phone. When she answers, she tells whoever it is on the other end of the line that they're up to something vulgar, in unabashed detail, and simply begins to laugh and lifts the mobile out of reach when Clementine shrieks her apologies and tries to grab for it. She has to explain to Lee, when she gets home, that actually Violet was joking; that no, he hadn't caught them at a bad time, and yes, they still teach sex ed at school, Lee.

Ironically, Clementine only has half an idea of what anything Violet had said was about, and this in particular really makes Violet laugh.

"I didn't know it was him," she explains. "Has he given you the talk yet?"

"Every day," Clementine tells her, "since he's convinced you're such a sex pest!"

Violet grins.

"Aren't I?"

Clementine pushes her off the side of the bed. At least, from that point onwards, Lee starts to announce himself whenever he comes upstairs, just on the off-chance he overhears something unsavoury.

He still lets Violet stay overnight, of course, because Lee's the biggest pushover there is and, in a way, Clementine knows he's occupied too. Carley is never further than a phone call away and there are whispers of plans to fly out to Illinois, to spend an evening, a weekend, a fortnight.

"You know that Kenny's booked another ski trip?" she says, one day over the phone.

Lee shakes his head. Clem looks up. Carley isn't on speaker, but the kitchen is quiet and Lee's volume is on high.

"No," says Lee. "When's he done that?"

"Last weekend," Carley tells him. "Booked a damn villa. His treat, he says. Even Jane's invited."

Clementine makes a note. She'll have to get ski lessons, she thinks, if Lee needs her for any more moral support but somehow, this time, she imagines he'll be fine. He pens it into the calendar.

AJ says loudly, "I'd be good at skiing!"

And Carley's laughter echoes around the room.

There are learning curves for Clementine, too. There are things Violet doesn’t speak about; subjects that when breached only result in her clamming up and withdrawing. She still refuses to have Clementine take her home; won't let her meet the family, outside of occasional awkward conversations with Lynn, if Clementine picks Violet up from the diner. Clementine doesn't think it right to ask, after all, for the intricate details just yet. She's busy trying to learn about a happier Violet and she thinks she'll ruin the mood if one day she just up and demands,

"Hey, tell me about your dead grandmother."

Not that she wouldn't like to. Clementine tries her best. She's lucky to have Louis on hand, never too far nor too busy to entertain her concerns, however infantile.

"It'll come in time," he tells her, "just wait, Violet's worth it."

There's a beat, and then he suggests,

"I could tell you why I was sent to Ericson, if that'll help?"

It's difficult to envision Louis as being anything other than charming, a little bit dorky, and always with a smile on his face. Clementine is comforted by the knowledge that she's never experienced anything akin to the manipulation that Louis tells her about, although she knows he regrets a whole lot.

"That's why I try so hard," he says, "in school, to make my parents proud."

And it certainly pays off. He gets into UGA. So does Gabe, in fact. There's a party, another one, this time at Louis' house with relatives in crisp suits and Lucy serving up all sorts of finger food that AJ delights in. Clementine has to laugh as she watches David, Kate and Gabe come through the front doors beside Mariana, fruitcake in arms.

"Where are you graduating from, again?" asks David, as he's shaking Louis' hand.

Louis stutters. Mariana stamps on his foot.

"You wouldn't have heard of it," he says awkwardly.

And David nods as if he's being told that it's an Ivy League high school equivalent, or something prestigious, to match the Mercedes in the driveway and exact blinding white shade of Louis' shirt.

Kate and Gabe exchange a smirk.

They even do Mariana the curtesy of leading David away when Mitch rolls up an hour or so later, stinking of petrol fumes, and exclaims loudly and with laughter that the kid from next door, Willie by name, is following in his footsteps and being sent off to Ericson in the fall.

Ruby says it isn't funny.

Aasim shrugs non-committedly.

"It is," he says, "just a little."

"You've been teaching him to make bombs again, haven't you?" sighs Louis.

Of course, the whole thing is quickly forgotten. He and Marlon get very drunk and very emotional later that night. Mariana finds the boys sitting out on the back porch, arms around each others shoulders, whiskey between them, hiccuping and slurring their words as tears drip onto their laps.

"You're gonna do so fuckin' good, man," Marlon is telling Louis, swaying as he shakes him. "Can't believe we made it."

Clementine can't believe it either.

Violet nudges Mariana's shoulder and pulls on Clementine's hand, and they go back to the kitchen to witness the beginnings of David making toasts with Louis' father.

Life is good.

The summer is technicolour.

Whatever comes next is bound to be exciting and Clementine knows, without a doubt, she wouldn't change it for the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It made me very happy to write this chapter. I picture it as a traditional teen romance epilogue where everything sort of comes together; you know there's gunna be something that's still slightly out of place, but it's okay, because you're left feeling positive. I hope I've achieved that!
> 
> I'm taking a break from TWD for a short while. I think, and I say this with a pinch of salt because my interests (read: hyperfixations) change as frequently as the weather, that I'll continue this as a series, mainly revolving around everyone else. We've got bits about Marlon; Violet and Minnie, of course, too. So if that you're cup of tea, keep your eyes open. I'm expecting it might be at some time in the new year, but I'm ever hopeful.


	20. Author's Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Further reading.

If anyone wanted to read further into this series:

Part 2: [_Turn To Rust_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28427010)

> _There's always another side to the story, and this time, it's Minnie's._

Part 3: WIP

> _“We’re going_ all _the way to California,” says Brody, “right, aren’t we, Marlon?”_

Part 4: [_Angels We Have Heard On High_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28427010)

> _Violet hasn't had too many enjoyable Christmases, but this year will be different._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you and goodnight.
> 
> Honestly thank you so much to everyone who stuck around with this story, I can't say it enough. I'm so proud to finally complete the first multi chapter fic that I've ever posted to this site.
> 
> Please feel free to follow me on Tumblr (lmao) if that's you're cup of tea. I post photography, fandoms and other shite, under the same name.


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